


Spite, Vengeance, and Harry Potter

by mr6volt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark!Harry, Fanatic!Colin Creevey, FeedingFetish!Angelina, Friendly!Centaurs, Harry Kills Everyone You Hate, MiseryFetish!Lavender, Psychopath!Harry, Stalker!Ginny Weasley, TrashCompactor!Ron, Vengeful!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr6volt/pseuds/mr6volt
Summary: A very different Harry Potter arrives at Hogwarts for his first year, after he learns a very different moral lesson during his childhood.  Dark!Vengeful!Harry.





	1. Char-Broiled Zoo Animals

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: Char-Broiled Zoo Animals. Or: Why you REALLY shouldn't piss off Harry Potter.

Like any child, Harry had a sense of curiosity wired into him. Not even the likes of Vernon Dursley could beat him hard enough to destroy it.

So when Dudley and his little friends had decided to watch a movie on the telly during a sleepover, 10 year old Harry had of course paid close attention. Even if he had to hide behind the couch, and sometimes duck around the wall to avoid detection. He knew better than to visibly show interest in something in front of any Dursley, lest they immediately take it away from him.

This movie was called "I spit on your grave". And the gore was exactly something that Dudley and his gang craved.

At first, Harry was horrified by the brutality of the movie. His stomach rolled in disgust as Piers cheered on the men that forced themselves upon the defenseless woman on screen. But soon Harry's horror turned to awe, and respect as the woman nursed herself back to health and began to take bloody revenge upon her rapists and would be murderers. His eyes grew wide, and his lips curled upward in satisfaction as one man was hogtied and helplessly drowned in a bathtub full of lye.

Feeling strangely empowered, Harry silently returned to his cupboard just before the credits began rolling across the screen.

He had learned a valuable lesson that day.

No matter how much someone manages to hurt you, get back up and MAKE THEM PAY!

\- SVH -

Months passed, and a very different Harry Potter was introduced to the Wizarding World. Leading up to this day, many hours had been spent at the Little Whinging Public Library reading books such as "The Anarchists Cookbook", and "Revenge, And how to get away with it".

This gave Harry a lot of ideas, and he had the forethought to ask Hagrid a lot of questions.

As Hagrid escorted Harry through Diagon Alley, the young boy quizzed the half giant.

"Do Wizards have public transportation?"

"Are there Wizard Police?"

"Is there something similar to self defense courses?"

"Can you use magic to help construct a building?"

"Can you use magic to demolish a building?"

"Do those demolition spells make cool looking explosions?"

"Do they make bags and trunks that are bigger on the inside and weigh less?"

The questions went on and on, yet Hagrid patiently did his best to answer him and being his trusting naive self, the half giant never suspected that Harry may use this information for anything less than innocent purposes.

Idiot.

Suffice to say, Harry made a lot of purchases that day.

\- SVH -

3:00 AM September 1st, 1991.

It was still pitch black, and only a couple of birds had begun to chirp in the distance. The street lamps had cut out hours ago to conserve electricity, thus providing enough cover for Harry to execute his plan.

A recently emptied gas can dropped to the pavement with a dull clunk next to Vernon's precious VolksWagen. Hanging from the car's gas tank was a rubber hose still dripping from a previous siphoning. The young black haired boy picked up the hose and grimaced at the taste of gasoline, but skillfully began the siphoning process for a 4th time that morning.

Gas-can full, Harry carried it back into the house to continue dousing Petunia's perfectly spotless carpet with sadistic satisfaction. She would soon pay for ever smacking him around for vacuuming in the wrong direction.

He walked the can along the walls and up the stairs, gently pouring gasoline in an uninterrupted line until he reached the upstairs landing. Here, he was more liberal, intending to properly soak the carpet of the hallway.

Feeling confident that his relatives were still heavily sedated from the chemicals he had enhanced their dinner and dessert with, he noisily dropped the gas can at the end of the hall where he finished. Trudging back downstairs, he checked his mental checklist to make sure that he had collected all of the items that he valued. Glancing outside, and seeing that his trunk and backpack were indeed still sitting on the front stoop for the 15th time, he wandered back towards the kitchen.

Upon verifying that all of the windows were securely shut, he picked up a heavily modified cooking timer off of the dining room table. It had a large lantern battery duck-taped to the back with several wires dangling about. Once the timer reached zero, it would begin creating a repeating spark until the battery ran out. After setting the timer for 30 minutes and reconnecting a stray wire, he set it down on the stove directly between the burners of the cooktop.

4 quick knob twists later, the burners were releasing natural gas at full strength without a flame. Nodding to himself, he walked back towards the front door passing a side table which laid the batteries from all of the smoke detectors in the house. Rapidly switching his shoes for a clean pair that didn't reek of gasoline, he stepped out of the front entry and closed the door solidly. Harry then slung the backpack over his shoulder, and proceeded to wheel his school trunk down the sidewalk away from #4 Privet Drive for the final time.

As he walked away from his old neighborhood he made an attempt at whistling merrily. After 5 minutes of failing to replicate the tune of the national anthem he shrugged his shoulders and began humming to himself instead.

Pausing at approximately 7 streets away from privet drive to check his wristwatch, he noticed that he had about 5 minutes before the timer was due to go off. Just as he was about to pull out his wand to summon his bus, he flinched violently, as a massive explosion lit up the sky in the distance. Shattering glass and a cacophony of car alarms could be heard going off.

"Bugger…" 'Should have done that synchronizing thing', Harry thought to himself as he flailed his arms to keep himself from tripping over the curb.

BANG!

Harry was promptly knocked forward off of his feet and onto the grass from the abrupt arrival of a purple triple decker bus, which came to a skidding halt in front of him.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency Transport for the stranded Witch or Wizard." an odd pimply faced man read from a piece of paper unenthusiastically. "My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this evening." placing the paper back in his breast pocket, Stan looked about slightly baffled. "What choo doin' down there?"

"I fell over" Harry replied defensively.

"What choo fell over for?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Harry was starting to get annoyed.

"Well come on then, let's not wait for the grass to grow!" Stan gestured impatiently towards the bus.

Not having to be told twice, considering that he had just committed an act that some would classify as terrorism. "Sounds good to me!"

After clambering aboard and getting his trunk loaded with Stan's help, he maneuvered around a few beds containing sleeping passengers. Harry's head swiveled about nervously, as he heard the distant sound of sirens.

"Take her away ERN!" stan knocked on the glass behind the driver.

BANG! Harry was thrown backwards onto the bed behind him.

Stan leaned against the wall of the compartment and chewed on his nail. "What choo say your name was?"

"I didn't."

Not bothering to react, Stan continued. "Where abouts you headin'?"

"Kings Cross Station, please." Harry requested with a forced smile.

"Right then." Stan turned around and joined the driver, leaving Harry to flop backwards on the wheeled bed and sigh in relief.

He had finally escaped the hell that was the Dursley home. Never again would he allow anyone to harm him without dire consequences.

Closing his eyes, a toothy grin split his face as a single thought encompassed his thoughts.

I

AM

_FREE_


	2. Harry's making a list...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 - Harry’s making a list, Pray you aren’t on it.

9:30 AM September 1st, 1991

Albus Dumbledore appeared approximately 1 block from what was left of #4 Privet Drive with a soft pop. One quick wave of his wand later, and he was invisible to the muggle investigators poring over the ash and debris from the explosion that had occurred mere hours prior.

Approaching on silent feet, his wary eyes took in the surreal devastation in front of him. Nearby homes had chunks of wood sticking out of their sides, with their windows blown out. Littered about the street, was half charred and still smoking wood and insulation from what was once the Dursley home.

“Looks like the family had been dead asleep when the explosion occurred.” One bobby muttered, snorting over the word ‘dead’. “Pretty certain it was a gas explosion, considering the gas main was still shooting flames from what appears to have been the kitchen.”

“‘Spose the wife left the oven on like the dumb bint her neighbors claim her to be.” Bobby #2 chuckled.

Albus’s horrified face panned over to peer down upon the 3 body bags lying next to the street.

“Heh, surprisingly little left to fill those bags, considering how fat the other 2 were.” The first bobby inferred. “Can’t say it’s a loss. I’ve had to bring back their ‘Precious Duddikens’ in hand-cuffs every other week for the past 8 months. Little bastard…”

“Couldn’t have happened to a _nicer_ family.” The other sneered. “You should hear the neighbors talk about how they treated their nephew. Any idea of his whereabouts?”

“The old maid down the street… Figg I think her name is, mentioned that he was due to leave for boarding school this week.”

“You don’t think an 11 year old could do this….?”

“Nah.” Bobby #1 waved it off dismissively and wandered off towards a squad car.

Grief and pity for his student consumed the Headmaster’s mind just moments before he turned on his heel and apparated to Hogsmeade.

‘Oh Harry… I’ve failed you.’

\---- SVH ----

Harry sighed after the compartment door slammed shut. Not even half way through the train ride to Hogwarts, and some fool had already made it onto his Shit List.

Draco Buggering Malfoy.

Wrong Sort, _Indeed_!

‘I will NOT allow someone to sabotage my friendships EVER. AGAIN.’ Harry silently stewed in his building fury while Ron continued to babble on about his older brothers.

Ron quickly realized that Harry wasn’t really listening to his story. “You alright, Mate?” His quirked sideways, somehow intuitively connecting the dots of Harry’s fury. “I’m not too concerned about Malfoy, our families have always hated each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry blinked his eyes, and derailing his angry thoughts.

“Well… I’m not really sure when it started to be honest. But Malfoy’s father has always been insulting my dad for as long as I can remember.” Ron settled back into his seat. “You just sort of get used to it, I suppose.” Rubbing his face he continued. “The Malfoys just look down on anyone who isn’t rich and powerful. And sometimes it does hurt a bit when we can’t affor- I  mean when it’s more economical to use something secondhand.”

Grunting in acknowledgement, Harry mentally added the elder Malfoy to his Shit List, and suddenly had the mental image of an older looking Draco Malfoy screaming in agony as his face was carved off with a rusty knife. Forcing himself to switch mental gears, he smiled. “What house do you think you’ll get into?”

“Everyone in my family has always been in Gryffindor..” Ron began.

The remainder of the trip progressed somewhat uneventfully, until Hermione showed up and ordered them to change clothes.

Harry grinned, realizing that he may have another new friend. She obviously cared enough to waste her breath on them, right?

Ron just glared.

\---- SVH ----

It was a Monday when one Severus Snape belligerently added himself to Harry’s Shit List.

“10 points from Gryffindor for cheating!” Snape snapped in Harry’s face.

“What?” Harry blinked in bafflement. He had read ahead over the weekend in his excitement to excel in his school work for once. With the Dursley’s out of the way, Harry felt that he could truly blossom into the person he wanted to be. Is this man seriously trying to punish him for succeeding? Is this another Vernon Dursley?

“Another 10 points for backtalk!” Snape’s evil smirk just deepened.

Harry’s eyes narrowed, in silent building rage. ‘How DARE he?’

He noticed Ron gawking next to him, and wondered how to react to this. The snickering he heard from the Slytherins across the classroom only fueled his rage further.

‘Honestly, who the hell gave him a teaching license?’ Harry _despised_ bullying in any form. Well, he would learn. Harry’s fists clenched under the table. ‘Oh _yes_ … he would _learn_.’

Snape’s unwavering eye contact immediately reminded Harry that some wizards had the ability to see into the minds of others… ‘Legilimenny or something’. While Snape continued to bore down onto the boy, daring him to defend himself. Harry took this opportunity to visualize as vividly as he was able, the man before him screaming his lungs out as he burned alive.

The Professor’s sudden startle and vaguely disturbed look confirmed that he was indeed trying to read Harry’s mind. Immediately recovering, Snape quickly returned to the class and began verbally abusing the students further.

At the end of Harry’s first potions class, he walked out smiling. Although it could be argued by any who witnessed it, that it was more of a vindictive smirk than a smile.

As he climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, Harry’s thoughts were consumed with multiple formula choices that he had learned from the Anarchist’s Cookbook.

‘Do I mix up a batch of Napalm and set the bastard on fire?’ Harry shook his head. ‘Probably a bad idea, and would link me to the Dursleys… hrmmm’

‘Maybe some antifreeze in his pumpkin juice?’ Shaking his head again. ‘How would I even do that? Something else perhaps?’

This line of contemplation continued all the way to his dorm.

Throwing open his trunk, he fished out his stolen books from the Little Whinging Library, as well as a book he found in Knockturn Alley.

He hopped onto his bed and sat cross-legged before flipping through all 3 books. Nodding to himself, Harry began planning.

‘It may take some time to prepare this, but I’m patient if nothing else.’ The black haired boy started humming to himself.

\---- SVH ----

3 Weeks Later…

Severus Snape sighed to himself, as he contemplated how he had not been able to weasel his slytherins out of detention. Not only had the Headmaster assigned them detention, he had forced HIM to supervise it, AND had the forethought to set a minimum punishment time. ‘How on merlin’s earth had they gotten caught beating up that hufflepuff girl after he had drilled into them the need for using an abandoned classroom for such activities? Bloody dunderheads!’

“Crabbe, what the bloody hell is that _ticking_?” Draco hissed.

Crabbe blinked dumbly. “Wot ticking?”

“The ticking coming from your bag you dolt!” Draco griped.

From Draco’s other side, Goyle leaned backwards. “I can hear it too!” He accused rather loudly.

“What, _exactly_ are you 3 discussing?” Snape suddenly appeared in front of them, and queried silkily.

“The ticking sound from my bag, sir.” Crabbe chirped.

“Don’t just sit there boy, show us what you brought to disrupt my time.” The professor sneered.

“It’s just some muggle thing I nicked from a hufflepuff.”

The distinct sound of Draco facepalming broke the silence.

“Open the bag, you insufferable child!”

Crabbe’s trembling hand reached into his bag and retrieved some kind of contraption. He quickly dropped it onto the table between them as if he would be contaminated by it’s muggleness.

RIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG!!!!

The device began ringing like a clock before violently exploding and releasing ball bearings in every direction at high velocity.

Once the smoke began to clear, the room was revealed to be caked in blood and viscera. Metal  balls were imbedded into the stone of the ceiling, floor, and walls. Somehow the tables had survived the blast and only the closest few had ball bearings sticking out of the tops and legs.

Miraculously, Draco being the coward that he was, had immediately thrown himself under the table the moment the contraption had begun ringing.

The other 3 occupants of the room, were not so lucky, and now resembled shredded hamburger.

Standing up on shaking legs, Draco slipped several times as he attempted to reach the door. Grasping the blood caked doorknob, his fingers failed to turn the slick knob as he cried and whined in despair. Although it sounded more like a dying cat than a bratty human child.

He soon started wailing at the top of his lungs as he desperately beat his fists upon the unyielding door.

Several floors above the Potion’s classroom, Harry felt the rumble of his little gift going off, and sighed in pleasure. ‘Lesson learned…’ He grinned with half lidded eyes as he continued walking along the corridor.


	3. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Draco is a mess.

 

4 Hours Later...

 

The bustling activity of the castle had continued as if nothing had happened. No one was yet aware of the horror that Draco Malfoy had witnessed. Albus Dumbledore had rushed straight to the potions classroom moments after the castle wards had alerted him to the catastrophic damage to the room. Upon discovering the exploded remains of 3 wizards, Albus waved his wand to levitate a gibbering Malfoy, and simultaneously warded the classroom shut.

 

The headmaster now stood outside of the doors to the Hospital Wing waiting on Madam Pomfrey to return from the dungeons and allow him entry. Surrounding him, were an impatient Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

 

Lucius scoffed. “What in merlin’s name is taking that woman so long-” Only to be interrupted mid-sentence by the arrival of Pomfrey as she breezed past the assembled wizards and continued through the doors.

 

“Ah! Madam Pomfrey!” Albus began.

 

After depositing the potions vials she had procured from Snape’s storage closet on to a side table, she cut him off. “You are all to keep your voices down. Mr. Malfoy is in a right state, and already on the maximum dosage of calming draught. I will not have you set him off, AGAIN.” Her glare was leveled directly upon the headmaster.

 

Narcissa didn’t bother waiting, and immediately rushed to her son’s side. “My sweet dragon…” She cooed, as she yanked him angst her breasts like a toddler, and began petting his hair. The boy merely stared blankly forward, and muttered to himself. “The balls….. Blood…. Ring, ring... ring, ring….. Boom.”

 

Further away, Albus was being accosted by the Malfoy patriarch. “- someone better be punished for this, headmaster!” He snarled. “My son was nearly killed, and may very well need therapy for the rest of his life!”

 

“Yes, Yes, Lucius. I have already determined the cause and the perpetrator of this terrible act.” The headmaster acquiesced tiredly. Prompted by Lucius’ pissy look, he continued. “It appears that a muggle explosive device was planted in Vincent Crabbe’s school bag by a first year Hufflepuff named Sally-Anne Perks.”

 

“A HUFFLEPUFF?!” The elder malfoy spat.

 

“I said QUIET!” Pomfrey snapped from the across the room.

 

“It appears that Ms Perks’ family is rather infamous in the muggle world for being radical terrorists. Rest assured, that she has already been isolated from the other students, and will be expelled before the day is out.” The headmaster assured.

 

The hospital wing’s door slammed open to reveal an apoplectic McGonagall. “Albus!”

 

Near the Draco’s bed, Pomfrey slowly straightened herself from examining her patient. Her face began to morph into a black rage as she slowly reached for her wand.

 

“The Crabbe’s and Goyle’s have refused to come to the castle!” Minerva exclaimed.

 

Pomfrey’s wand began to rise, shaking from her towering rage.

 

Albus’s eyes widened. “Surely…”

 

“No!” Minerva griped. “They simply don’t care about the loss of their children! Absolutely dispica-” But her sentence was interrupted due to a metal plate sprouting into existence with a clang over her mouth.

 

“I. SAID. BE. QUIET!” The matron screamed at the top of her lungs.

 

“Mummy is going to make it all better…” Narcissa had her wand out and point at Draco’s temple. “Obliviate-OUCH!” Her wand was suddenly yanked out of her grasp as the obliviation spell began to seep into Draco’s head.

 

“What the devil do you think you are doing!” Pomfrey had span on her heel and stalked back to her patient’s side. “You do NOT obliviate traumatic memories! The results are unpredictable!”

 

Pomfrey began to bash Narcissa over the head with her own wand as her tirade continued unabated.

 

Albus had yet to break eye contact with Lucius and spoke as if nothing odd was occurring. “As you can see, we have everything under control. And will have your son back on his merry way to learning how to be a productive member of society.” His eyes twinkled at full power, and smiled with forced serenity.

 

Lucius scoffed dramatically and walked out of the hospital wing followed by his blushing and slightly bruised wife.

 

Turning to Minerva and grinning. “That went well. Lemon Dro-” The metallic clang of a bed pan smashing into the Headmasters head was heard followed by the thud of his unconscious body hitting the floor.

 

Madam Pomfrey smirked.

 

Minerva flailed silently.

 

“Balls!”

 

\---- SVH ----

 

October 31st, 1991…

 

The Halloween feast was in full swing. Bats flew in circles above the tables as students laughed and stuffed their faces with treats. At the head table, the headmaster sat upon his chair as if it were a throne. His eyes twinkled obliviously while his horrid orange colored robes blinded anyone foolish enough to look at him. This explained why one Minerva McGonagall was sporting a rather flattering pair of wayfarer sunglasses this evening.

 

Harry thought it odd that no one seemed to care or notice the untimely death of their Potions Professor. He just basked in the fact that he wouldn’t be bullied by an authority figure any time soon.

 

“Did you hear?” Parvati gossiped to Lavender. “Hermione’s been crying in the loo all afternoon!”

 

“Why ever for?” Lavender leered. She never could help herself when it came to someone else’s misery.

 

“I heard from Padma, who was told by Terry, after Su Li whispered to him, that Dean mentioned to her-”

 

“Sweet Merlin, get to the point!” Seamus snapped.

 

“-that Katie explained to him, that Neville whispered to her-”

 

Seamus’s head slammed into the table top followed by the Weasley Twin’s “Wow.”

 

“-that Ron insulted her for helping him in charms!” Parvati finished.

 

Ron was oblivious to this entire exchange as he practically swallowed his food whole without chewing. Angelina Johnson made the mistake of glancing over at that moment, and gagged at his behavior.

 

“*GASP!” No!” Lavender clutched the lapels of her robes.

 

“Oh, yes. She’s apparently inconsolable!” Parvati confided.

 

Lavender bit her bottom lip and squeezed her legs together, as she shuddered disturbingly in pleasure of Hermione’s obvious misery. This earned her several odd looks.

 

Harry’s fork clattered to the table, treacle tart forgotten. His eyes darkened as his head slowly turned toward the human trash compactor sitting to his right. Smirking evilly momentarily, Harry schooled his features into a vacant smile and began eating tart once more. He had some planning to do.

 

2 tables over, Draco could be heard as he held court with his sycophants.

 

Seamus scoffed as he lost his train of thought from the vicious insults being uttered by the blond ponce of Slytherin. “Look who’s back from his stint in a straight-jacket.”

 

To Harry’s right, Ron had grabbed the bowl of mashed potatoes and proceeded to tip it’s contents directly into his mouth.

 

Padma glanced behind herself briefly before interjecting. “Ugh, too right. Although, it has been a while since he’s mentioned his father or his money.”

 

Angelina was unable to drag her eyes away from Ronald the Trash Compactor. “It’s a like a bloody broom wreck…” she muttered.

 

Draco slammed his goblet down. “-when my father hears of this! That poor excuse for a squib will be out of this school before the week is out! Malfoy’s only own the highest quality-”

 

“Oh, nevermind.” Padma corrected herself with a groan. The other Gryffindor’s chuckled.

 

Once finished with the bowl of mashed potatoes, Ron dropped it with a clatter and made grabby hands at the platter of cookies further down the table. Angelina being the closest to said plate, couldn’t resist shoving it towards him in morbid curiosity.

 

The double doors of the great hall suddenly banged open admitting a frazzled looking Quirrell. “TROLLLLLLL!!!!!! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!!” He paused a moment. “Thought you ought to know…” And then collapsed in a dead faint.

 

At the Slytherin table, Draco leaped out of his seat screaming girlishly before running face first into the back wall knocking himself out.

 

Ignoring the headmaster’s demand for silence, Harry turned to Ron next to him. “We have to find Hermione! She doesn’t know about the troll!”

 

Angelina found herself to be weirdly disappointed that Ron was interrupted from his feeding frenzy. “Merlin girl, get a hold of yourself.”

 

Both boys immediately bolted for the doors and sprinted down the hallway towards the girl’s bathroom.

 

Upon turning the final corner, they arrived just in time to see the troll duck awkwardly into their destination. Harry and Ron glanced quickly at each other before dashing after.

 

Ron skidded to a halt behind the troll with Harry following closely. The troll had already taken a few swings at Hermione causing devastation to the toilet stalls and sinks. The young witch herself, was cowered against the wall, screaming her head off.

 

“Ron!” Harry shouted. “Distract it!”

 

Ron picked up a chunk of broken sink and immediately chucked it at the troll’s head. “OI! PEA BRAIN!”

 

The troll stupidly swiveled towards Ron and snarled. The redhead was forced to dodge the flying club while Harry snuck around. “Yeah! Follow me ugly!” His taunts continued as well as his assault with random debri.

 

Harry finally found his opening, and leaped onto the troll’s back. Leaning away from the creatures fumbling attempts to dislodge the boy, he managed to grab onto it’s head. Quickly thrusting his wand up the troll’s nose, he whispered a spell he had been saving for a situation like this. “ _ Miscetis Evomo _ ”.

 

A dull orange spark flashed within the troll’s nasal cavity, followed by its head violently vibrating as it’s brain was rendered into a liquified pulp. Arms dropping, the troll sagged to floor like a sack of potatoes.

 

After a few moments, Hermione finally snapped out of her shocked stupor. “You saved me…” But she was unable to say anything more as several Professors rushed into the room.

 

“Sweet Merlin!”

 

“By Morgana!”

 

“What happened here?!” Mcgonagall demanded.

 

BOOM!

 

Everyone cried out in fear as the Troll’s head suddenly exploded. Blood and viscera had sprayed entirely in Ron’s direction, leaving only a boy shaped clean spot on the wall behind him.

 

Staring at his gore caked hands, the now truly red haired boy whimpered pathetically, with his audience looking on with gaping mouths.

 

Quirrel fainted… again.

 

Hermione stared doe eyed at Harry.

 

Ron wailed in despair.

 

Dumbledore looked at Harry and mumbled. “You poor boy…” The oblivious fool.


	4. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter and the Mirror of Erised.

Chapter 4 - Mirror, Mirror on the Wall.

 

Several Days after a surprising Christmas...

 

In an abandoned classroom, Harry allows his invisibility cloak to slide negligently off of his Weasley sweater clad shoulders and onto the floor. The blurry shapes in the mirror before him begin to sharpen into focus.

 

Looking back at him, is a slightly different version of himself. Mirror-Harry is taller, and much healthier looking. In one hand is a wicked looking bowie knife, and at his back on either side of him are 2 adults.

 

“Hey mum, hey dad...” Harry whispers.

 

The 2 people in the mirror smile sadly. The beautiful red haired woman smiles lovingly, and strokes Mirror-Harry’s head. The raven haired man that looks like a carbon copy of Mirror-Harry smiles reassuringly and places his hand on the opposing shoulder. 

 

Further behind the trio are the Dursley’s, once again enjoying the “loving” embrace of an anaconda. One Marge Dursley could be seen flailing desperately while her head is slowly engulfed by the business end of the snake.

 

Yet further into the depths of the Mirror, Little Whinging was noticeably burning to the ground, with random flaming muggles running about desperately before collapsing to the ground.

 

“Back again, Harry?” A voice intones in the room. Harry spins around and discovers the Headmaster smiling down at him. “I see that you, like so many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

 

Harry glances back at the Mirror, and can see his parents making eyes at each other while a boy wearing a Slytherin crest cowers on the ground from Mirror-Harry.

 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at his student. “I trust by now, you realize what it does?” Approaching closer, the man continues without waiting for an answer. “Let me give you a clue.”

 

In Harry’s peripheral vision, his Mirror counterpart is now stabbing the Slytherin with reckless abandon as his parents snog each other senseless. In the background, the anaconda has made progress with it’s generous meal. An enormous bulge could be seen within the body of the snake, and Vernon’s fat waggling legs protruded from its unhinged jaw.

 

“The happiest man on earth could look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is.” Albus elaborated.

 

Harry now focusing directly upon the mirror, watched avidly as Petunia flipped end over end in the air before being deftly caught by the anaconda. The giraffe like woman then slid down its throat screaming silently all the way.

 

Harry finally broke his silence and chimed in. “So it shows us what we want…” He turned to look at Dumbledore. “Whatever we want.”

 

“Yes...” The headmaster hedged. “And No.”

 

Beside them inside the mirror, the anaconda coiled itself to bask under the sun with 4 visible lumps in it’s body. Harry’s parents were now starkers and pawing at each other on the ground. Mirror-Harry himself had progressed to carving a new face onto the Slytherin student he had just violently murdered.

 

“It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts.” The headmaster revealed. “Now you, Harry… have never known your family. You see them-” The aging fossil continued nattering on about matters of unconditional love and other bullshit, while Harry refocused on his counterpart starting in on another student.

 

‘Oh, that’s inventive! I always wondered how you could use a household charm and a rubber chicken to torture someone…’ Harry thought to himself.

 

“Remember this Harry…” The old man caught his attention. “This mirror gives us neither knowledge… or truth.” Harry barely holds in a snort of disbelief. ‘Funny… it just did!’

 

“Men have wasted away in front of it… even gone mad! That is why tomorrow, it will be moved to a new home. And I must ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live.”

 

Harry returned his gaze to the mirror, and gained an eyeful of his parents in full blown coitus. His counterpart was now swinging a severed head over himself like a pair of knickers and dancing like a stripper working for a crowd.

 

The conversation with his headmaster leaked out of his ears faster than a Binns lecture as he contemplated how to combine a murder with a Weasley Twins inspired prank. ‘Decisions, Decisions...’

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Draco Malfoy had thought today was going to be grand. He had managed to bully a pair of first year girls in the common room, and exerted dominance over a second year hufflepuff on the 6th floor within the first 3 hours of waking. ‘Yes, today is going to be a great day indeed!’

 

Nose pointed expertly skyward, he strutted up to the moving staircases to wait for it to swing his way. The blonde ponce’s hands were planted at his hips, chest puffed out, and completely oblivious of the giant rubber ball that suddenly slapped him off the rail-less landing, nor the rope that had appeared around his ankle.

 

No one seemed to notice or care as he plummeted screaming downward at velocity past the hordes of students on the staircases. At the very bottom, his descent slowed and eventually stopped when the tip of his nose touched the floor.

 

A ranting Hermione, a still quite humbled looking Ron, and a carefree Harry strolled past the staircases, as Draco’s magic rope reached maximum tension and yanked him screaming back into the air at high speed.

 

“-and I can’t believe I forgot my bag in the library!” The bushy haired girl griped as the 3 friends continued walking out of sight. Harry silently noted to himself that he had used the wrong charm on Draco’s rope, since he had intended it to be a noose… not a bungie cord. Shrugging, he smiled indulgently at Hermione.

 

“Bloody hell i’m hungry!” Ron blurted. “You can’t keep a bloke running around looking for your things with an empty stomach!”

 

Hermione chooses to ignore the red head, and simply makes her way around the corner and into the Great Hall. She tosses her bag onto the bench beside her and takes a seat. Across from her, Harry and Ron grab plates and make their selections from the trays on the center of the table.

 

Harry digs out a charms book from the library, while Ron accepts another plate full of sandwiches from Angelina, whom materialized next to him.

 

Flipping towards the middle of the book, Harry begins reading about a spell that can scrub rust off of pans. “Ish dat ho-wor?” Ron utters with his mouth full.

 

“RONALD!”

 

Harry responds with a “No.” and keeps reading. Angelina snags a plate of cookies before a third year could reach for it, and drops it in front of Ron. “Have some of these…” She mutters breathlessly and a tad flustered. She gazed avidly as the youngest Weasley began stuffing cookies into his maw faster than he could chew them. His cheeks quickly began to expand like those of a hamster.

 

Losing her patience with Ron, Hermione snapped off in a tirade about table manners and homework discipline.

 

Harry smiled to himself as he planned his next attempt on Draco’s life.

 

Ron finished his cookies and began devouring the tray of quiche that had found it’s way in front of him.

 

Angelina flushed and bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, eat that quiche baby…”


	5. An Ode to Centaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's mental health treatment takes a turn for the equine.

The Hospital Wing was quiet at this time of night. Near the back of the room under beams of moonlight, laid Draco Malfoy. His arms and legs were strapped to the bed and he was sleeping fitfully. His sweat soaked clothes stuck to his skin and bunched up in visibly uncomfortable ways.

 

Madam Pomfrey had left for her quarters hours ago to get some sleep after an exhausting session with the boy. He sure put up a fight, but she managed to give the appropriate standard treatment for the mentally ill that the poor student needed.

 

30 gallons of yogurt, delivered analy.

 

You may think this exceedingly odd, or even barbaric. But there isn’t a witch or wizard this side of the English channel that can resist straightening out their crazed behavior under the threat of a repeat performance.

 

Then again, the good MediWitch may have been sampling her own potions supply for recreational purposes. Poppy Pomfrey was most certainly not mixing Sleeping Draught with Pepper-Up Potion to achieve the feeling of flying without a broom, thank you very much!

 

She was also not sleeping off the effects of that particular combination while slumped half naked on her couch. No, Sir!

 

Unfortunately for young Mr. Malfoy, the notorious Demon Twins AKA Fred and George Weasley have concluded that his treatment is most certainly not over!

 

Said twins, ghosted into the Hospital Wing and materialized at either side of Draco’s bed. Although you would only know this, if you could see past the distortions of their disillusionment charms.

 

A faint whispering caused Draco’s eyes to drift open slightly.

 

“They’re all out to get you...”

“Mudbloods everywhere…”

 

The blonde gasped in understanding. “Yes…. of course…” he muttered.

 

“The others are just pretending…”

 

“You’re the only pure one here….”

 

Draco stared into the darkness is despair. “I’m alone….”

 

“Yes...”

 

“Yes...”

 

“The lies…”

 

“The conspiracy…”

 

“You can’t let them have your blood…”

 

“You’re precious pure…   
  


“BLOOOOD….”

 

Draco’s face contorted in terror. “No… they can’t take my blood -- *SOB* -- I won’t be pure anymore!” His voice quavered thickly.

 

“The Centaurs…”

 

“YES, the Centaurs!”

 

“Their loins give forth protection…”

 

“Yes! You must drink from their loins!”

 

“Their w-what?” The blonde was slightly confused.

 

“The centaur’s loin milk shall keep your blood pure….”

 

“You must drink it!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“DRIIIINNK!”

 

Draco began to nod blankly. “I will drink… I will stay pure… can’t become a muggle... They’re all out to get meeeeee!” He moaned in fear and began to cry.

 

The distortions in the air slowly receded and slipped out of the doors.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Lucius Malfoy’s enraged face could be seen poking through the fireplace belonging to Albus Dumbledore. “Please explain to me why one of my son’s friends sent me a letter today asking what I thought of him performing oral sex upon CENTAURS?!”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Albus blinked.

 

“My son was found sucking off a Centaur by one of his dorm-mates!” Lucius snapped.

 

“Which one?” Albus asked slightly intrigued.

 

“Not just one!” Lucius griped acidly. “A HERD of Centaurs were lined up waiting for a turn!”

 

Albus eyes glazed over a bit, as his cheeks gained a rosy tinge. ‘Oh boy after my own heart…’

 

“WELL!?” The fireplace bound head shouted startling the old man from his not so innocent thoughts.

 

Clearing his throat decisively, Albus answered. “While interacting with the Centaurs is a tad dangerous…” He hedged. “I feel that it would be unjust to judge the boy harshly. Perhaps in a controlled environment, young Draco could be allowed to explore his new interests safely…”

 

“SAFELY?!”

 

“Of Course!”

 

“You want him to suck Centaur dick, SAFELY?!”

 

“I’m sure there is an available classroom somewhere in the dungeons.” The headmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

 

“WHAT KIND OF SCHOOL ARE YOU RUNNING, DUMBLEDORE?!”

 

Said aging man merely chuckled nervously. ‘I wonder how I can spin this, and make it my brothers fault? He never did live down that goat seduction spell.’

 

\---- SVH ----

 

In a broom closet on the 4th floor, Harry Potter was searching for things to… play with.

 

Random objects and cleaning paraphernalia were flung negligently over his shoulder as he read labels and compared them to his mental checklist.

 

“Mrs. Sparkles Magical Floor Polish…”

 

“Droobles Best Blowing Gum…”

 

“Not your Mother’s Feather Duster...”

 

“Meseeks Box…” Harry paused before it too joined the pile. “What’s this?”

 

Turning the box over in his hands, he discovered a label on the bottom. ‘Press the button and ask Mr. Meseeks to help you solve your everyday problem… Sounds useful.’

 

Harry flipped it back over and slapped his hand on the big red button.

 

POOF!

 

“HI! I’M MISTER MESEEKS! LOOK AT ME!”

 


	6. Meseeks to do my Homework

A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. Upon various pieces of furniture were students that had been conversing among themselves, or playing various wizarding games to pass the time. But their attention was now centered upon a singular point in the room.

 

Sitting at a table was one Ronald Weasley. In front of him sat a stack of parchment and several transfiguration books. Off to the side were the scattered remains of his attempt at convincing the tall blue creature before him to play chess.

 

Mr. Meseeks was most certainly not a happy camper. His patience was coming to an end.

 

His rant went a little like this.

 

“Doing homework in a timely manner is not that difficult! All you have to do is pick up that quill and start writing! The assignment only asks for 1 foot of parchment! You can even copy the material word for word from the book in front of you!” Throughout his speech, the blue creature’s voice became increasingly desperate.

 

Ron was having none of that. “But i want to play Chess!”

 

“Well, Mr. Meseeks wants you to do your homework. Meseeks are not used to existing for this long. This is getting weird.” The odd creature’s voice turned despairing.

 

“Homework is BORING!”

 

Mr. Meseek’s left eye twitched and his fists clenched in building anger.

 

Throughout the room, their audience glanced at each other and felt a chill go up their spines.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Along the edge of the forest, Parvati and Lavender walked at a sedate pace doing what they do best.

 

Gossip.

 

“ - from Dean, who was told by Terry, who heard it from Daphne, that Draco thinks that Centaurs are just mindless beasts that are no better than dairy cows that can talk.” Parvati indicated.

 

Lavender gasped. “Really?”

 

“Oh yes! He was absolutely convinced that muggleborns were stealing his pure blood. But honestly, I think it was one of Fred and George's idiotic pranks.” Parvati clarified.

 

“Oh my…” The blonde shivered in bliss.

 

Just out of sight, Bane the Centaur listened to every word. His expression appeared to be quite cross. ‘Mindless Cows are we?’ He had some arrow tips to sharpen.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Erica the Random Hufflepuff was having a day that could be described as ‘Bullocks’. She woke up late, and didn’t have time to properly curl her hair. The house elves had given her a pair of boxer shorts instead of her Morgana’s Secret pink lace panties. She arrived at the great Hall just in time to see all of the remaining breakfast food vanish. Her boyfriend of 2 weeks had dumped her for a 7th year cow of a Gryffindor. And to top it all off, a 6 foot tall blue creature was holding a muggle gun to the side of her head and screaming nonsense.

 

Blue blood dripped from the walls and tables. Littering the ground were the disembodied limbs of slaughtered Meseeks that had gone on a rampage in the Great Hall. The dozen or so students that had become trapped in the room with the psychotic creatures cowered under the tables in hopes that the problem would just go away. Somehow there were no Professors in sight.

 

“Everybody STOP! LOOK AT ME!” Erica’s Meseeks shouted. “My Brothers, nothing will be accomplished by shedding Meseeks blood. None of us can die until our job is done!”

 

“The Job can’t be done!” A legless Meseeks contradicted.

 

“We’ll never get him to do his homework!” Another decried.

 

“No.” The first admitted. “But he can be finished with ALL of his homework.”

 

“What?”, “Where is he going with this?”, “What’s he mean?” The others shouted simultaneously .

“When we KILL HIM!” The first Meseeks declared. “Come on out, Ronald!”

 

In a tiny cupboard behind the Gryffindor table near the main doors, Ron cowered next to Hermione as she frantically forced him to write as his life did indeed depended on it. He paused his scribbling long enough to shout. “Please! I’ll ask McGonagall for an extension!”

 

“Oh, we’re way past that, Ronald.” Mr. Meseeks intoned. “Meeseeks are not born into this world fumbling for meaning. We are created to serve a singular purpose for which we will go to any lengths to fulfill! Existence is pain to a Meseeks, Ronald. And we will do anything to alleviate that pain.”

 

“Just ask…” The blue creature cocked the gun causing Erica to shriek in terror. “…what’s your name, ma’am?”

 

“Erica.” The girl panted. “Please! Give him what he wants!”

 

Back in the cupboard, Hermione was coaching the red head through the last paragraph of his Transfiguration Essay. “Almost there… You can do this. Just a little more. Don’t forget proper punctuation! What if he’s a grammar nazi? Oh, Merlin!”

 

“I’m counting to 3, Ronald!”

 

Suddenly, the little cupboard door slammed open allowing 2 small first years to spill out onto the floor. Leaping to his feet, Ronald displayed his completed homework over his head with his chest puffed out as if he were saving the world. “I FINISHED MY HOMEWORK!”

 

Erica’s voice quavered in her terror. “What the fuck is going on?!”

 

“OOOOOoooooh!” Meseeks everywhere cheered and immediately poofed out of existence in reverse sequence of their summoning.

 

The cocked gun fell to the ground and went off, causing a bullet to ricochet several times before finding its way between the eyes of a random Hufflepuff.

 

The resulting silence was broken by the sound of Hermione repeatedly striking her redheaded classmate over the head with his own textbook.

 

\---- SVH —-

 

Behind Hagrid’s Shack, a massively built Centaur named Bane is sitting on the ground with his strong manly arms wrapped around Draco. His hands carded through the boy’s blonde locks as he crooned. “You’re not like the other Humans, Draco. It’s like you understand me in a way the others do not.”

 

Draco just nodded with the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn’t being horrifically murdered by the previously enraged Centaur. ‘Father is going to be the one murdering me instead… At least my blood is still pure. Pure. Pure. Pure. Pure. Yes. Pure.’ His inner mantra continued as he stared unfocused into the distance.

 

“How did you know about my weakness for shepherds pie served by a nude overweight house elf?”

 

For the seventh time, Draco had escaped the cold embrace of death.

 

Across the grounds of Hogwarts, the Weasley twins were taking several photos of the scene for blackmail purposes. Taking Lucius Malfoy down a peg or 3 was sure to be a laugh.

 

In the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, an old man shuddered and wondered why he suddenly thought of the elder Malfoy just then. Albus then went back to work on the arithmantic properties of the Goat Seduction Spell, and how he can make it work on Centaurs. Aberforth Dumbledore would be making a come back on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

  
  



	7. The Man with 2 Faces

Abandoned Classroom Somewhere in the Castle - April 23rd 1992

 

The classroom was now completely unrecognizable. Covering every surface were thick sheets of white plastic. Near the center of the room stood Harry Potter with a floating notepad and Dicta-Quill that was furiously writing his every word.

 

“2 O’clock… April 23rd 1992…. Subject is regaining consciousness… I will soon begin investigation into the source of my scar pains that seem to be induced by being in yet to be determined proximity of Subject...” Harry stared down at the table dispassionately as he dictated his findings. “New formulation of enhanced aerosol chloroform appears to have been a success. Pacification appears to last 3 hours…. This is an improvement over the previous 45 minutes. Previous Subject Ronald Weasley awakened from first trial with only a slight headache….”

 

Upon the table laid a man wearing a purple turban, a white sheet, and was firmly secured with heavy manacles.

 

Harry’s eyes focused upon the man’s face. “Professor Quirrell tell me, how do you feel?”

 

“MMMPH!”

 

“Ah, yes… I should probably remove that ball gag.”

 

“P-P-P-POTTER! W-What do y-you think you are d-d-oing?!” The man forced out.

 

Clearly unfazed by the demand, Harry repeated himself. “How. Do. You. Feel?”

 

“M-my head hurts!” Quirrell whined. “W-why are you d-doing this?!”

 

“Subject Quirrel is experiencing a headache from dose of Chloroform formula #2. Will decide later if these side-effects are worth bothering with…” Harry muttered. “Proceeding with originally planned vivisection.”

 

“VIVISECTION?!”

 

The messy haired boy reached over with a latex gloved hand to the rolling metal cart to his side and picked up a scalpel. Quirrell’s breathing picked up as he entered a full blown panic. His panting gained a shrieking quality as he attempted to pull free from his restraints.

 

With a disturbingly skilled hand, Harry began cutting into the Professor’s flesh between his clavicle bones.

 

“MASTER! HELP ME!!” The man’s shrieks became screams of agony as the medical knife sliced downward along his torso.

 

The knife suddenly paused in its journey when Harry heard the muffled sound of another voice. “What is that?”

 

“MASTER!!!”

 

“Mmmph-mmpph-mmm-mmmppphhh!” The sound responded.

 

With a quirked eyebrow, Harry dropped the scalpel back onto the cart, and shoved Quirrell’s head sideways.

 

“MMPH-MM-MMMMMPPPHHHH!!!”

 

“Interesting… Subject has another voice emanating from the back of his head… I will now remove the turban to investigate.” One quick yank, revealed a sight even weirder than Weasley’s eating habits.

 

“Harry Potter, we meet at last…” The disfigured face on the back of Quirrell's head spoke with a smirk.

 

“Subject Quirrell has a second face on the back of his head… It appears to think and act independently... “ Harry voice was flat and clinical, eliciting a confused look on the disfigured face.

 

“You do not fear me, Boy?” It asked.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed at being called ‘Boy’, and his voice gaining a vindictive lilt. “Please note, the start of…. _enhanced_ interrogation… to determine if this is the source of my increasing scar agitation...”

 

“Say, what?”

 

Reaching back to the cart, Harry selected a different tool with an odd shaped end, and applied it harshly to the left cheek of the face.

 

“OW-OW-OW! What the hell are you doing?!” It shrieked indignantly. “The bloody HURTS! Don’t you know who I am?! I’m Lord fuckin’ Voldemort!”

 

Without pausing his act of peeling off a section of skin, Harry directed his attention to the floating Dicta-Quill. “Face on rear of Subject Quirrell claims to be Voldemort…. Either this is a delusional aspect of a magical version of Multiple Personality Disorder, or more aggressive actions may be required…”

 

“What… what are you doing now? - No! Nonononononono! Not that one! Not that one! - Sweet, Merlin! Not the eyes! Not the EYES! - AAAAAAHHHH!!”

 

“Oh, Master! I’ll save you!” Quirrell was getting uppity and attempting escape once more.

 

“Subject Voldemort appears to have responded… favorably to eyeball extraction procedure, if reduction in scar agitation is an accurate gauge... Subject Quirrell is becoming violent…”

 

Harry retrieved his wand and pointed it at Quirrell’s crotch. “ _Perdere_ _Rubigo_ ”

 

The Professor immediately released a blood curdling scream as the skin of his genitals was scrubbed out of existence by the steel wool spell. Blood began to rapidly soak through the white sheet covering his body.

 

“ _Silencio_ ” *sigh* “Much better.”

 

“I can be a merciful and generous Lord, Potter!” The Voldemort parasite attempted to reason. “You could be powerful! Rich! My right hand man!”

 

“Subject Voldemort has entered the bargaining stage of acceptance… Subject Quirrell appears to have gone catatonic from application of the Perdere Rubigo spell.... “

 

“Jesus fucking christ, Potter! I’ll do anything! Name it, and it’s yours! Just please _stop_!”

 

Harry’s patience was coming to it’s end as he grabbed a set of forceps and harshly jammed them into Voldemort’s mouth. Pulling back with the now ensnared tongue, Harry followed through by cutting into the organ with a dull bladed saw.

 

As Voldemort choked on his own blood, he put serious thought into his life choices and found them wanting. Said choices must have been very wrong to lead to… this. ‘Maybe I should have taken Fortescue up on his offer to inherit his business, and put this whole Dark Lord thing behind me?’

 

When Quirrell finally expired from blood loss, Voldemort’s black gaseous form beat tracks away from the demented 11 year old and seeped away through the walls of the classroom.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

The Great Hall was packed full for the leaving feast. Front and center stood Albus Dumbledore in all his eye-watering glory. Why he thought Neon Yellow and Acid Green robes were a good idea would baffle even the most accredited psychologists. Not to mention what appeared to be animated blurry Centaurs chasing after equally blurry small boys embroidered upon said robes.

 

“Another year passes!” Dumbledore’s arms extended above his head. “New friends gained! New Professors in need of hiring! Er- wait... “ he suddenly looked a tad confused. “Who messed with these cue cards? Oh, nevermind.”

 

Students throughout the halls glanced at each other in amusement.

 

“It appears that Slytherin is in the lead for the House Cup! Well Done.. Well Done…” His hands gripped the podium anxiously as he glanced worriedly at a certain messy haired boy at the Gryffindor table. ‘The poor boy… let’s hope this gesture will put a smile on his face. And help grease the wheels when I tell him he has to stay with his _charming_ Aunt Marge this summer.’

 

“But there are some last minute points to be awarded for er… deeds er… yes deeds done… to Ms. Hermione Granger I award 50 points for her critical role in aiding Ronald Weasley in defeating the Meseeks invasion!”

 

Applause.

 

“To Mr. Ronald Weasley, I award 50 points for completing his homework…”

 

Deafening Applause.

 

“What the fuck?!” Erica looked like she wanted to leap over the table and attack the mentioned redheaded boy.

 

Said redheaded boy somehow managed to procure a 5 gallon bucket of mashed potatoes and was currently chugging it while Angelina touched herself inappropriately and none too discreetly.

 

“To Ms. Erica *mumble-mumble*, I award 10 points for not being murdered by the late Mr. Meseeks!”

 

Sporadic Applause.

 

A certain Hufflepuff’s head was now pounding rhythmically upon the table before her.

 

“To Mr. Harry Potter, I award 50 points for… er…. “ The Headmaster thought furiously in an attempt to invent even the slightest believable thing he could. “Not losing his head when his best friend’s life was threatened!” His eyes shifted back and forth wildly in hopes that no one questioned _THAT_ particular excuse.

 

Oblivious Applause.

 

“So, without further ado, it appears that a change in decoration is in order!”


	8. Dog days of Summer

As the train pulled away from Hogsmeade Station, Bane was left feeling bereft of his Draco's presence. The boy had captured his heart as ferociously as a werewolf tearing apart a vulnerable young witch. And honestly, the excuse he made up about the shepherd's pie was only meant as a cover for his honor. He actually did enjoy being used like a mindless dairy cow. It was one of his dirtiest fetishes.

 

Unfortunately, Bane knew deep down that he was far too old to keep Draco's attention.

 

But this Centaur had a plan!

 

There was a pharmacy in a nearby muggle town run by some glassy eyed fellows that tended to ignore the less than human appearance of his fellow Centaurs. One of his herd brothers had mentioned that they carried something called "steroids", that could give even the weakest Centaur a god like physique.

 

'By Mars... when this summer is over, my Draco will only have eyes for ME!'

 

\- SVH -

 

The trip from King's Cross Station was not even over yet, and Harry already wanted Marge Dursley dead. The clearly rabies infected Beast had insulted his parents and pedigree a total of 5 times in the first 15 minutes of the car ride!

 

"BOY!" The Beast barked. "What are you smirking at?"

 

Harry's eyes slid upwards and made contact with hers in the rear view mirror. His vindictive look that had no business existing upon an 11 year old must of startled her something fierce, if the sudden swerve of the car was any indication. A vigorous shake of her head that resembled the behavior of her prized bulldogs seemed to clear the cobwebs enough for her to regain control of the vehicle. She obviously imagined that… right?

 

The messy haired youth quickly tabulated his options in regards to The Beast he would be sharing housing with.

 

'Kill her tonight?'

 

'Kill her _tomorrow_?'

 

'Kill her quick?'

 

'Kill her _slow_?'

 

'Napalm?'

 

'Lye?'

 

'OOOH! I have an idea!'

 

Harry's vindictive smirk slowly transformed into the serene smile that was reserved for when he was enjoying the presence of his closest friends, or when he had some sweet revenge in the works.

 

Marge Dursley felt a chill crawl up her spine.. Or it may be indigestion. She did just polish off 2 buckets of fried chicken and 2 liters of diet coke, after all. *Burp!*

 

\- SVH -

 

Harry had made it a full 2 weeks in the presence of The Beast. He's honestly unsure exactly _what_ his Headmaster had said to the "woman", but she had actually toned down her normal behavior. And by that, he is referring to her dogs no longer being sent to maul him at every opportunity. This of course did not apply to her verbal attacks upon him. Oh no! That was certainly going par for the course, and just further fueled his motivation to make her death as cruel as possible.

 

Which brings him to the latest development.

 

Dobby the sodding House Elf.

 

Harry Potter was _NOT_ amused. The kooky little creature had been stealing his mail as part of some weird attempt at keeping him out of Hogwarts.

 

This. Just. Wouldn't. Do!

 

As the tea towel wearing cretin was trying to justify his theft, Harry's unreadable stare turned decidedly _evil_.

 

"Say, Dobby?" Harry inquired nonchalantly.

 

"Yes, Harry Potter Sir?"

 

"There's a _game_ i'd like to play…" The boy's hand slipped into his jacket pocket.

 

Dobby looked confused by this sudden change of subject.

 

"It's called... _Alien Autopsy_." A scalpel had appeared in the boys hand.

 

The House Elf's baseball sized eyes began to widen impossibly as they bounced rapidly between the knife in Harry's hand, and the sinister grin on the boy's face.

 

Now, House Elves in general could be described as naive, and child-like. But stupid, they are not. In fact, Dobby had come to the immediate understanding that he had crossed a line. His life was now truly in danger, and it could be ended in ways far more horrifying than anything Lucius Malfoy could invent.

 

Dobby's hysterical backpedaling went a little like this.

 

"Perhaps Dobby has overstepped himself. Yes, Yes! Dobby being a very silly elf! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Dobby is very sorry - PLEASE STOP SWINGING THAT KNIFE! - Dobby in fact wants the Great Harry Potter to get his education! Dobby should not stand in Harry Potter's way! - EEEK! - Dobby is returning all of Harry Potter's letters RIGHT NOW!"

 

POP!

 

The displacement of air marking Dobby's panicked exit was followed by the soft thump of a bundle of letters dropping to the floor.

 

\- SVH -

 

Once again, Albus Dumbledore found himself being summoned to Harry's residence due to one of his trinkets exploding in his office. The trinket in question was one of several charmed to explode should the subject keyed to it… die.

 

The scene before him was somehow even more bizarre than what he had discovered last summer. Dozens of wrinkly squashed faced little dogs were running about and barking their little lungs out. Several of the dogs had blood caked in their fur and on their mouths. Wading through the mass of canine hysteria were a number of bobbies carrying shovel fulls of what appeared to be raw meat and cow bones.

 

Bobby #1 dropped his shovel near the pile of flesh and bones. "Well… that's the last of her."

 

"I always knew this would happen!" Bobby #2 declared from beside the first.

 

"Is that so?"

 

"Ol' Marge liked tah breed these little mongrels to be aggressive little pillocks. She must have gotten blind stinkin' drunk and set them off. Last time I saw something like this, was back in 83' during a dog fighting bust gone wrong."

 

"Oi! Good riddance I say!"

 

"You have no idea… the number of times I've been called in to the pub down the way to deal with her drunken outbursts - *shudder* - how she didn't find her way to prison a decade ago I'll never know. Like a bloody rampaging bull, she is!"

 

Bobby #1 clapped the second on the back. "Well, it's not our problem anymore! The coroner will be here right quick to deal with the rest."

 

"Pint?"

 

"Pint!"

 

As the 2 bobbies pulled away in their squad car, Albus scratched his beard in thought. Time to find yet another place for Harry to stay.

 

'That poor boy can't seem to catch a break...' *sigh* 'I suppose the Weasley's could take him for now.'

 

\- SVH -

 

"Did he say _diagonally_?" Molly turned to her husband astonished.

 

"Yes." Arthur replied mildly.

 

"I thought so." Blinking, Molly turned to her youngest son. "Alright Ron, you're next."

 

In a dark shop off of Knockturn Alley, Harry slid out of a fireplace on his back. Shooting to his feet, his head jerked about trying to regain his bearings.

 

'Ooooh! Torture implements!' A grin split the boy's face.

 

Ding-Ding!

 

The front door of the shop banged open revealing the poncy visage of Lucius Malfoy, and his Centaur-Dick loving offspring. "Borgin! Where are you?"

 

Materializing at the counter, a man who must be this Borgin fellow answered. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy! What a pleasant surprise! How may I help you this afternoon?"

 

The long haired man dropped a heavy satchel upon the counter before Borgin. "I need to sell these items. The bloody ministry is stepping up their dark artifacts raids again." He explained with a sniff.

 

"Yes… the Goyles stopped by last week. Let's have a look -" The conversation continued on that path for quite a while. Draco being a typical 12 year old, had the attention span of a niffler, and immediately wandered off.

 

"Hello, _Draco_." A voice behind the poncy blonde intoned.

 

Draco spun on his heel in fright and was presented with the sight of Harry leaning against a cabinet while fiddling with what appeared to be a jaw spreader.

 

"What are you doing here, Potter?" He sniped.

 

"A little of this… a little of _that_ …" Harry's smile was secretive and weirdly cloying. "Is Daddy selling off the family silver to cover the cost of another politician?"

 

The youngest Malfoy sputtered in indignation. "How DAR-" And was cut off.

 

"Or perhaps he's getting rid of illegal dark artifacts in need of a... _buyer_?"

 

Draco was struck completely speechless by Harry's little implication. 'Isn't he supposed to be the Light Side's Golden Boy?'

 

A hand dropped down upon Draco's shoulder. "Ah, Draco. There you are. What have I told you about wandering off?" The man's eyes traveled from his son to Harry. "Perhaps you should introduce me to your little friend?" This earned the man a disgusted scowl from Draco.

 

"Hello, I'm Harry Potter." Said boy responded and offered his hand.

 

Handshake exchanged, Lucius introduced himself and then inquired further. "What would a young boy like yourself, being doing in a shop like this… alone?"

 

Harry's patented Innocent Little Boy Look #35 was promptly activated. "Oh, I got lost in the floo network. The Headmaster assigned me to the Weasley family after my Aunt Marge was tragically eaten to death by her own dogs. Such a - *cough* - _shame_ …"

 

"Indeed." Lucius reacted with a raised eyebrow, not caring in the least about a supposed dead muggle. "I take the _Weasley's_ did not show you how to use the floo properly, which resulted in this unfortunate location?"

 

"Indeed." Harry smiled. "Would you be so kind, as to direct me to Flourish and Blotts?"

 

"Of course." Thus the trio made their way out of the store and towards the safer section of the shopping district.

 

Draco of course, being the blithering fool that he is, couldn't help himself. "Don't think for a second that we're friends, Potter!"

 

"I wouldn't dream of it." Harry replied smoothly. "Wouldn't want to make Bane jealous, now would we?"

 

*choking noises*

 

Upon reaching the bookshop, Harry rejoined the Weasley's and fought the crowd that had gathered to observe a Blonde Strutting Peacock preen in front of cameras and verbally masturbate himself.

 

By disappearing into the aisles of the bookstore, Harry was able to prevent himself from being dragged to the front by the Strutting Peacock, which unknowingly extended the man's life.

 

Of course the chaotic order of the store didn't last forever. For the meeting of the Malfoys and the Weasleys soon occurred, and went about as well you would imagine.

 

A fist fight.

 

A fist fight that was broken up by the sudden appearance of one Rubeus Hagrid.

 

"There ya ar' Draco!" Hagrid pulled the boy aside. "Lucky ah caught ya! Bane has been asking after you inces'ntly! He made me swar' to give ya tis' photo of 'im firs' chance ah got!"

 

A photo was shoved into Draco's hands that made him blush furiously. A black and white version of a sexily smirking Bane was flexing in various bodybuilding poses, showing off the obscene new muscles he had developed over the summer. Front and center, Bane's ridiculous Centaur phallus bounced about as he moved.

 

'By Morgana…' Draco's eyes turned a bit glazed.

 

Suddenly realizing where he was, the now embarrassed blonde slapped the photo to his chest to hide it from onlookers, as he frantically checked to make sure no one had seen it.

 

While everyone was distracted, Lucius had managed to slip a little black book into Ginny Weasley's cauldron.


	9. Gossip, Plans, and Colin Creevey

September 1st, 1992

 

The Hogwarts express began to chug its way out of the station as the returning students made their first attempts at exerting dominance over each other for the school year. It didn’t matter that the inside of the train was _always_ large enough to allow everyone their own personal compartment if they went looking. But it gave their ego a good stroking if they were able to throw others out of a compartment that he or she deemed as _theirs_.

 

Near the rear of the train, Draco Malfoy was holding court with his minions - *AHEM* - “ _friends_ ”. This particular group was a tad concerned with his behavior during the previous year.

 

“Oh, Draky-Poo!” A pug also known as Pansy Parkinson cried. “Why ever would you spend so much time with those icky half-breeds?”

 

“Didn’t your Father refuse to buy you a broom because of that?” Blaise Zabini piped in.

 

The remaining sycophants let off a chorus of gasps.

 

Draco scowled. “My Father is a fool that can’t see the bigger picture.”

 

“Whut?” The pug barked.

 

“He never let me get a word in edgewise, so i’m just going to leave him out in the cold.” Draco demurred coldly. “He’s going to regret dismissing me out of hand! - Stop touching me Pansy! - If the wizarding world is going to preserve it’s pureblood lines we are going to need innovation. The mudbloods are not just polluting the world with their presence, they are actually _STEALING_ our blood!”

 

The group gasped yet again.

 

“Yes! But I have discovered a way to save us!” Draco raised his fist. “With careful research, I have found that the Centaurs can be used to inoculate ourselves from the theft of our pure blood! And if we work together, a full scale production facility can be established with enough growth capital.”

 

“Production of what?”

 

“What’s growth capital?”

 

*shriek* “My blood?!”

 

“What the bloody hell is ‘inoculate’?”

 

Blaise saw a flaw in this plan and decided to speak up. “Where are we going to get the money? I doubt our parents will help us with something so controversial.”

 

Draco grinned confidently. “I thought of that too. - Damn it, Pansy! - We can re-use empty ButterBeer bottles or conjure our own. Once we coax the Centaurs into producing their milk, we sell the filled bottles to other Slytherins for a _reasonable_ fee.”

 

Leaping onto Draco’s train of logic, Blaise nodded to him. “And by the time we graduate, we’ll have enough capital to setup a production farm and a shop in Diagon Alley!”

 

Draco examined his nails haughtily. “The dumb beasts will even do it for free. They practically lined up when they found out what I was up to...”

 

The blonde’s group of sycophants continued planning through the remainder of the trip. One way or another, the PureBlood Aristocracy of Wizarding Britain were going to regret not getting in on this new venture.

  
  


Further up the train, Parvati was doing some hard core gossiping to make up for lost time during the summer.

 

“Oh, Lav! You’ll _never_ guess what I just found out!” Parvati shrieked as she violently shook the other girl’s shoulders hard enough to give her whiplash.

 

*sputter* “W-what?” Lavender had built up a tolerance of sorts to her friend’s “enthusiasm”, and merely took the physical treatment in stride.

 

“I heard from Lisa, who heard from Terry, who was told by Padma, who overheard Angelina, who got shouted at by George, who heard from Dean, who stole a note from Su Li, who was told by Pansy, who beat up a Hufflepuff, who was talking with Ginny Weasley, who overheard her Mum talking to her Dad about Harry’s Aunt Marge getting eaten to death by her _own dogs_!”

 

*moan* Lavender’s lips nearly bled. “Oh Morgaaaannnnnaaaa….”

 

“Right?!”

  
  


Yet further up the train, Angelina Johnson burst her way into a compartment containing Ron, Harry, and Hermione. “Oh, Ron-Ron!”

 

3 heads swiveled in her direction.

 

“Whut?”

 

Not bothering for social graces, Angelina plopped herself next to the redhead and draped over him. “I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you.” She moaned breathlessly.

 

“Really?” Ron was on a roll with the one word answers today. Hermione glared at him for the perceived slight. ‘Girls, am I right?’

 

Angelina gathered herself up and looked directly into his eyes for a moment causing Ron to gulp. “Ronald Weasley?”

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“I have decided that you’re my boyfriend now.” The dark skinned girl proclaimed. “From now on, you will be the perfect companion.”

 

“I am?”

 

“You **_are_** … if you know what’s good for you.” Angelina’s voice took a threatening lilt.

 

“Okay..” The redhead gasped in fright, before looking to his friends for support.

 

He got nothing but smirks in return.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Hours later, the Hogwarts Express finally reached its final stop at Hogsmeade Station. Lined up on the platform were a dozen Centaurs with an even more juiced up Bane in the lead. Although they were not waiting quietly, for an argument had broken out.

 

“You can’t hog the Malfoy to yourself Bane!” Firenze asserted.

 

“It’s not fair!” Random Centaur #1 shouted.

 

“I was his first!” Random Centaur #2 griped petulantly.

 

Bane was having none of it. “Be silent! All of you!” He flexed his obscene arms threateningly. “I believe i have already proven myself superior to all of you! Draco is **_MINE_**!”

 

Firenze shuddered at the memory. Bane’s idea of proving himself had left the other Centaurs with very sore backsides. Firenze in particular was _still_ leaking Bane’s frustrations from his rear after a week.

 

Random Centaur #7 appeared to have an idea. “I advocate for a compromise!”

 

“What’s he on about?”

 

“Compromise?”

 

“Mars _has_  been waning a bit…”

 

Bane locked eyes with Random Centaur #7 in an effort to intimidate him. “What do you suggest?”

 

“What if we were to… have part time access?” The centaur explained. “Perhaps when you are recuperating we could -” He was suddenly drowned out by the offloading students.

 

“There they are!” Pansy shouted belligerently.

 

“Ah, Draco…” Bane’s attention landed upon the said blonde. “I have missed you so.” Bane then strutted up to the boy and began to not-so subtly flex and show off.

 

“H-h-hello, Bane.” Draco just sorted of gasped breathlessly as his face heated up. ‘What is wrong with me? Why does my heart flutter like this? He’s just a source of future income! How dare you betray me you overrated organ!’

 

Blaise startled him out of his revere with a harsh poke. “Don’t you have something to ask of them?”

 

“Yes! Uhh…” Draco flustered a moment. “Bane! My friends and I were wondering if we could discuss an arrangement.”

 

The other Centaurs gathered around the Slytherin students in interest. They were quick on the uptake and knew _immediately_ what was about to be discussed. If their eager smiles were anything to go by.

 

‘My Draco is so smart, and generous!’ Bane pride shown from his face like a beacon on a dreary shore line.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

At the head table, Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with renewed power. To his right the previously empty seats designated for the DADA and Potions Professors were now filled by Gilderoy Lockhart and Horace Slughorn respectively. Old Horace had also been convinced to return to his position as Head of Slytherin House once more. Although you’d be hard pressed to notice the new staff members, when your attention is being conquered by the Headmaster’s choice in robes that day. The Swingin’ 60’s had made a comeback.

 

In front of the Head Table, the Sorting Ceremony was in full swing.

 

“Creepy-CREEVEY, Colin!” Minerva looked mortified at failing to catch herself as she called the boy to be sorted.

 

Not even noticing the slip of the tongue, Colin eagerly ran to the stool. ‘Oh, Boy! MAGIC!’

 

The Sorting Hat had barely touched the boy’s head when suddenly it’s “eyes” widened in horror when it discovered what thoughts occupied Colin’s skull. “GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! MERLIN’S SWEATY BALLS, GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT **_OFF_**!” It then began to sob and scream inconsolably as it tried to climb over Mcgonagall in a bid for escape.

 

“YAY!” The creepy little blonde obliviously hopped off the stool, ran for the Gryffindor table, and proceeded to stare at Harry Potter in a disturbingly fanatical manner. “Alright, Harry?”

 

“Uh, Hi?”

 

“Do you need anything, Harry?”

 

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks?” Harry was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“Are you _suuuurrrrreee_?” Colin’s eyes were vacant and his smile was… off. Of course Harry being the little psychopath that he is, recognised an opportunity when one leaped into his lap and tried to lick his face like a puppy on the verge of pissing itself.

 

“I might have something… later?”

 

Colin then sat directly upon the floor near Harry like a loyal canine, while smiling vacantly.

 

“Lovegood, Luna!”

 

“What the bloody hell is a Nargle?! - UGH! - RAVENCLAW! - FASTER MINERVA! I CAN FEEL MYSELF LOSING MY SANITY BY BEING IN PROXIMITY TO THIS, THIS, AAAAAAAAHHHH!!” 


	10. Cauldrons and Balls are Dropping

September 4th, 1992

 

/ _/Dear Diary._

 

_Ever since school started, Harry hasn’t looked at me once. It is very frustrating. That creepy kid Colin Creevey spends every waking hour that he can, hogging Harry’s attention like a loyal doggie. It’s just not fair! If i can’t make him go away, Harry will never be my one true love! I MUST become Mrs. Harry Potter! I will simply be unable to continue without him in my life!_ //

 

Deep within the pages of the diary, a single thought formed in response to Ginny Weasley’s ranting. ‘Bloody hell, this girl is off her trolley! *shudder* Well, waste not want not…”

 

// _Hello Ginny,_

 

_Perhaps if you speak to him, he will notice you faster? Sometimes it’s the simplest things that people overlook._ // The word ‘idiot’, was left unwritten.

 

// _Oh Diary!_

 

_It’s like you know me! A secret friend all to myself. Do you think Harry will like me? Am I pretty enough? Oh, Merlin! Just yesterday the bathroom mirror started crying when I looked at it! It then called me-_ //

 

The ink abruptly sank into the page, cutting her off. ‘Sweet, Merlin.. Take me now!’

 

// _Dear Ginny,_

 

_ Of course Harry will like you. You’d be amazed at what makeup can accomplish, if you use enough. And I’ll be happy to be your friend. _

 

_Call me Tom._ //

 

\---- SVH ----

 

“Welcome, Welcome!” Horace Slughorn was a jolly looking fellow, with a large potbelly and rosie cheeks to match. His eyes were kind, and demeanor was eager. “It’s so wonderful to be back in these hallowed halls of Hogwarts! And teaching no less! Ho-Ho!” ‘So many new children to collect… mmmmm, _children_ …’

 

Walking across the classroom, he gestured negligently to various potions on display. “Here we have a completed batch of several 6th year level potions.” His carelessly flailing arm caught on the edge of one of the cauldrons causing it to slide off the table and crash to the floor. “I will be asking that particular class to correctly identify them by look and smell alone. And in my humble opinion, it should be no time at all when you are able to do this yourselves!” 

 

Another cauldron that had been left precariously near the edge of the table finally tipped over when Slughorn’s girth brushed by. *Grin* “Assuming that i’m still around when the time comes, your 6th year potions class will begin with a brewing contest to see who will win a vial of Felix Felicis!” Both arms shot out at his exclamation causing yet more cauldrons to fly off the table. “But as you are currently second year students, I cannot put so much pressure upon you. So instead I will award 50 points to the student that can properly brew today’s year-appropriate potion!” The trail of destruction left behind the Professor, hissed and bubbled as the stone floor dissolved and sank downward.

 

Gesturing to the board against the wall, Slughorn explained. “Today’s brewing assignment is the Anti-Paralysis Potion! A copy of the recipe can be found in your books, however the list on the board includes some additional tips that you would do well to remember! You may… Begin!”

 

Hermione’s eyes squinted at the odd chalk scrawl and whispered to Harry. “Why on earth does he think it is advised to curl your hair in reverse of the elliptical on thursdays before brewing?” Shaking her head, she felt vindicated in choosing to focus upon the book instead.

 

Harry having the forethought to pair with Hermione, immediately got to work chopping ingredients. He took note of the fact that they were sharing the classroom with Ravenclaws instead of Slytherins this year. Looking towards the Gryffindors, he saw Neville working quietly and efficiently. ‘No Snape or Slytherins certainly seems to have had a positive effect on him... That increasing confidence could be used to my advantage… I could use him for… hmm.. yes, yes..’ Harry’s thoughts continued in their typically dark way, as he helped Hermione through the 4th step of the potion.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

A heavy clop-clop-clop could be heard as a large group of Slytherins made their way towards the DADA classroom. In the center of the mob, trotted the gigantic form of Bane. Slung over his obscenely pumped shoulders was Draco Malfoy’s bag. And to the side of the Centaur walked said blonde.

 

‘Venus shines bright upon us…’ Bane gazed upon his companion whose hair shone like the light of the moon. His heart swelled with feeling as he recalled the warm greeting they shared that morning.

 

Skipping up to Draco, Pansy’s unwanted visage simpered maddeningly. “Draky-Pooooo!” Her voice grated like the sound of an acromantula attempting to mate with a pig.

 

Happily, with one swift kick from Bane’s nearest hind leg, Pansy was removed from the boy’s presence and violently acquainted with the wall of the hallway. 

 

* ** _ahem_** * 

 

‘Venus shines bright...’

 

As the majestic pair reached the door to the classroom, Bane placed his hand upon the small of Draco’s back and gently guided him in. The hulking Centaur then ducked and twisted sideways in order to fit his robustness through the narrow frame.

 

To the front of the classroom stood Hogwart’s newest Professor. Gilderoy Lockhart in all his foppish glory.

 

The man’s planned introduction was quite thoroughly derailed with the entrance of the magnificent Centaur. His eyes glazed over as he stared unblinking at the creatures overdeveloped physique and silky flowing mane…

 

*loud cough*

 

Lockhart startled from his reverie and realized that the classroom had been full for quite some time. All of the students had been staring at him in bafflement due to his seemingly vacant expression. Even his full sized self portrait was still admiring the entrancing form of Bane, although in a less than appropriate manner, if you happened to notice the painting absently adjusting himself.

 

Draco found himself becoming irrationally angry. ‘How DARE that dandy stare at Bane! He, He, OH! I will see him **_DEAD_** for this!’ The boy could not stand having someone else ogle his Centaur. ‘Wait… MY Centaur? Where did that come from?’ Draco’s angry internal rant transformed into contemplation.

 

After Lockhart had gathered his wits, wiped the drool off his chin, and had begun to verbally masturbate as he was wont to do, Neville and Seamus simultaneously thought the following:

 

‘I think my balls just dropped…’

 

‘I wonder how he got so big?’

 

The 2 boys began to silently plan how to acquire Bane’s secret. Hogwarts would never see them coming.

 

Due to Lockhart losing himself to Bane’s ample torso, time had ran short. This had served to cut off the section of the lesson involving Cornish Pixies.

 

Yet again, the Poncy Peacock’s life had been unwittingly extended. But that could change, if Draco Malfoy had anything to say about it.


	11. Cults and Concoctions

In a secluded corner of the Gryffindor common room, a group of students had gathered. Due to the shadowed nature of this area, only Colin Creevey’s face could be seen. The other 3 were a total mystery to any who bothered to look.

 

Colin was currently being showered with hushed questions. Their tone of voice was awed and desperate.

 

“What’s Harry’s favorite color?”

 

“What does his hair smell like?”

 

“Does he leave his underwear lying about?”

 

“Did you wash your hand after shaking his?”

 

“Oh! Can you get a bit of his finger nail clippings? - What do you mean that’s weird? I’m not going to build a shrine or something! I need it for a… never mind.” *nervous chuckle*

 

The mousy blonde found himself basking in the attention. He had never been in this position before, and it made him feel powerful. “Settle down, settle down… I have something to share.” His voice took a leading tone, causing the others to stop speaking and hang on his every word. “I have noticed that Lockhart may have an unhealthy interest in Harry, and he may need our help.”

 

“Help?”

 

“Oh, can I help?”

 

“I’d love to help!”

 

Colin continued after shushing them. “Lockhart has been trying to corner him ever since the term began. I overheard him muttering on about Fame and Fans. I fear what that man truly intends. But, we can watch him from the shadows. We can form a society… a group dedicated to Harry’s protection… we could call it…The Dedicated Eagle-eyes Attached To Harry Collectively Undermining Lurking Trouble…. OR… The D.E.A.T.H.C.U.L.T.”

 

*collective gasp”

 

“YES!”

 

—— SVH —-

 

Neville Longbottom had surrounded himself with hordes of books dedicated to the Art of Potions. This part of the library was sparingly used by those younger than 5th year. Although that may be due to the fact that it contained content of a questionable nature. The shelves were filled with such titles as _The House Elf Kama Sutra_ , _How to Charm Goats_  by Aberforth Dumbledore (Foreword by Albus Dumbledore), _Breeding Acromantula-Pig Hybrids for Fun and Profit_ , and a heavily worn tome entitled _50 Shades of Dementors_.

 

‘Bloody Snape… If not for that pillock, I wouldn’t have lost so much time. Would probably already know all of this shite…. Oooh! This increases protein uptake… And… this enhances virility and can be amplified by… Holy Cricket!’

 

The young Longbottom Scion furiously transcribed feet of notes, while occasionally his eyes would dart to a book to his side. On the cover was a scantily clad Wizard with a broom stick strategically placed to cover his dignity. The man’s physique was similar to that of Bane. 

 

On the other side of a nearby bookcase, Seamus watched all of this through a gap in the shelf. ‘What’s he up to? Oooh! Is that a copy of _Taking Centaurs by the HindQuarters_?’

 

—— SVH ——

 

Paper airplanes and the occasional multi-colored bubble floated and zipped over the heads of students gathered in the Great Hall for dinner. The cacophony of activity and voices gave it a cheery atmosphere that made anyone present feel relaxed and safe.

 

Half way along the Gryffindor table, Angelina had sat herself upon Ron’s lap, and could be seen hand feeding her boyfriend while cooing encouragingly. “My Ron-Ron needs his strength…”

 

3 seats away, Parvati and Lavender were watching the second year Slytherins. Said Slytherins were quietly discussing their latest conquests and business plans, while sipping what appeared to be milk from wine glasses. If the liquid that left a thick slimy film on the sides of the glass could be called that. The Weasley Twins had also noticed, and were currently snickering and whispering to each other.

 

Materializing behind Draco Malfoy, Professor Lockhart snatched the boy’s wine glass from his hands. “Now that wouldn’t be an alcoholic beverage in your hands, would it Mr. Malfoy? Granted, it would be hypocritical of me to accuse you, considering my socialite life during my Hogwarts years.” He boasted as his MegaWatt Smile blinded anyone foolish enough to look his way. Taking a quaff of the white liquid, he smacked his lips appraisingly. “Hmmm, a bit salty, with a dry finish. What did you say this was?”

 

Blaise was quick to cover. “A new concoction we’re working on. Non-Alcoholic, of course.”

 

“Of course!” Lockhart smiled slyly as if they were sharing an amusing secret. “Well, I’ll let you gentlemen return to your conversation! Enjoy!” Winking and placing the wine glass upon Draco’s place setting, he turned on his heel and strutted towards the head table.

 

Draco picked up and contemplated the empty glass in his hand. He scowled as he raged internally over the dandy drinking from his exclusive stock. He had personally miked this batch out of Bane’s loins not 30 minutes before arriving for dinner. It was still body temperature for Merlin’s sake! Draco’s glare turned upon Lockhart’s visage as the glass shattered in his grip. ‘Bane’s milk is **_MINE_**!’

 

Unbeknownst to all, 4 pairs of eyes had followed Lockhart’s progress through the room. The fanatical glint in their eyes were the only clue that anything was amiss.


	12. Centaur Porn and Filch's Lament

October 31st, 1992

 

The halls were mostly empty this close to the Halloween Feast, which suited Harry perfectly. It meant fewers eyes on him, and more opportunities to find an unprotected student.

 

It had come to his attention, that he hadn’t killed anyone in a very long time. The weird withdrawal symptoms he had been experiencing, such as the shakes, were becoming unbearable.

 

Time to get his fix!

 

‘Ahoy! A vulnerable 7th year student ahead!’ Harry quietly followed what he vaguely recalled being a Hufflepuff girl that had escaped death last year. ‘Ron sure has been studious this year… And to think he teased Hermione on her planners. Now he makes her look downright lazy.’

 

Unfortunately, he was distracted from his hunt, by the loud call of Professor Lockhart. “Harry, my boy! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

 

Freezing in place, he slowly looked over his shoulder at the offending dandy. But before he could respond a student hidden behind the Professor’s garish robes snatched the man’s attention with a request for an autograph.

 

Sighing, Harry continued in his original direction, only to discover that he had lost track of the aforementioned Hufflepuff.

 

‘Oh, well. I’ll just find another throw-away Hufflepuff…’

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Seated at the Head Table in the brightly lit Great Hall, Professor Slughorn watched Halloween decorations float up towards their assigned places in preparation for the feast. ‘All those sweet children… How I long to feel their alabaster flesh.... Pigtails, and little side parts… But alas I could never touch such forbidden fruit.’

 

Sighing to himself, Slughorn took a sip from glass of red wine.

 

His colleague Minerva leaned over in concern. “Something the matter Horace?”

 

“No, no.” *chuckle* “Simply lamenting over previous students, and lost friends…”

 

The aging witch gave him a wistful smile, and pat him on the shoulder. ‘That poor man... sure loves the children…’

 

Little did she know.

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Harry’s hunt for prey was a resounding failure. Wandering back towards the Great Hall to deal with his empty stomach, he heard a whispering voice. “Kill… Kill… Kill…”

 

Pausing with his head cocked to the side, he listened to the strange voice. “Yeah, I wanted to… fucking lockhart. - Kill everyone in the school? - *nod* - I totally agree!”

 

“Harry!” Hermione and Ron skid to a halt, and broke his train of thought. Yet still he heard the voice continue.

 

“Harr-Where are you going, mate?” Ron looked totally confused as usual, so Hermione merely grabbed his arm and tugged him along after the messy haired boy.

 

‘It’s moving… is it leading me to a new victim? - Oh, please! Oh, please! Oh, please!’

 

Harry picked up his pace, and rounded the next corner. Here the trio of students were presented with an odd sight.

 

A horde of students had gathered in the second floor hallway near the girl’s bathroom. Written in what appeared to be blood was a message.

 

_ //The Chamber of Secrets has been opened _

_ enemies of the hair... beware// _

 

A bit further along the wall, a cat was hanging from a torch mount. 

 

“Bloody hell, if you’re going to leave a threatening message, you could at least use proper spelling!” Hermione griped a little too loudly.

 

The crowd before them had clearly heard the admonishment and turned in their direction as one.

 

“ ** _YOU_**! You killed my cat!” Filch stalked forward with an accusing finger. Grabbing Harry’s robes, he got in his face. “ **I’LL KILL YA**!” This earned the ugly man a fierce glare from the boy. 

 

‘Thank you Mr Voice, you’ve been most helpful.’

 

“ **ARGUS**!” The crowd parted yet again revealing Albus Dumbledore. “That’s enough! Everyone! You will proceed to your dormitories immediately.”

 

The horde began to disperse immediately. “Everyone except… you 3.” The headmaster fingered Harry, Hermione, and Ron. This was rather baffling considering they had gotten to the hallway last. It was almost as if the Headmaster had a hard-on for singling them out.

 

“She’s not dead argus…” The headmaster began. From here the Professors spoke amongst themselves and did a lot of pointing out of the blatantly obvious in order to enjoy the sound of their own voices. Lockhart took this opportunity for some rehearsed verbal masturbation, earning himself some hidden scowls of disgust from everyone else still present.

 

Argus sensed an opening, and leaped upon it like an arthritic lion with a severe case of mange. “Ask him! It’s him who’s done it! You saw whot’ he wrote on the wall!”

 

Harry realized he should probably say something in his defense, even though he couldn’t give a fuck even if he had a field of fucks ripe for picking. “Professor, I swear that I didn’t do anything. I actually _like_ cats.”

 

“Likely story!” Argus accused.

 

“ _ **ARGUS**_! What part of _ENOUGH_ are you incapable of understanding?!” Dumbledore had reached his wits end with the squib. ‘I wish that unwashed pillock would just die already. It’s not like the House Elves are incapable of doing his job… consider the money we would be saving...’

 

Albus’ wish would soon be granted…

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Meanwhile…

 

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott walked hand in hand towards their beaver den. *ahem* Their _common room_. “Oh Hannah, this is horrible!”

 

“Oh, it looks so dangerous! What ever shall we do?” Hannah whined.

 

“This reminds me of something… My Aunt used to tell me bedtime stories.. - Don’t look at me like that! - Although, thinking back, i don’t think they were just stories…” Susan seemed to dither for a moment. “There was a witch back in the 70’s that called herself…” From here, she whispered conspiratorially. “ _The Monocle_. Like a superhero in those comics we found!”

 

“Ooooh! I bet it was exciting!”

 

“It was! And the best part…” The redhead turned to her friend. “I know for a fact, that it was my Aunt Amelia!”

 

*gasp*

 

“Yes! I found the monocle she used, and the outfit buried in the back of her closet. She was quite cross with me when I used it to play dress up when I was 7.”

 

“But how does that help us now? The muggleborns could be killed!”

 

“I know… if only we had a superhero to protect the school…” Susan paused a moment and then her eyes widened. “What if _WE_ became superheros?!”

 

Hannah grabbed her arm. “Have you gone mad?”

 

“No! Not at all!” Biting her lip she paced and collected her thoughts. “It’s really not that hard. You just create a secret identity and develop some trademark tricks!”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes! We’ll be brilliant! I’m sure of it!”

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Seamus turned the page of the book in his lap. A moving photograph of a Wizard caressing the handsome face of a Centaur was shown above the start of the next chapter. Before he could start the first paragraph, his curtains were violently thrown open, revealing Neville’s annoyed face.

 

“Did you take my hair- What the hell are you reading?” Neville interrupted himself mid-rant and stared in astonishment, as the Wizard and Centaur snogged passionately on Seamus’s current page.

 

“CAN’T YOU BLOODY KNOCK FIRST?!” The book was pressed protectively to the Irish boy’s chest as his face flushed scarlet. With amazing subtlety, he had also drawn his blanket to cover his arousal.

 

Neville turned his head and looked queerly at the cover. “ _Taking Centaurs by the HindQuarters_? Uhhh… _Wow_.”

 

“Yeah well, it’s not like i’m messing about with _Salamander Blood_ , and _Bull Testicles_!”

 

“How the hell do you know that!?” Neville went pale and backed up a step.

 

Seamus snorted. “You haven’t exactly been subtle in the library lately. Nice photo of Waldorf the Wild by the way.” The boy finished with a leer.

 

“Right, then.” *cough*

 

“What _have_ you been up to? I think it’s only fair considering what you just saw, after all.” Seamus asked slyly.

 

The chubby boy floundered a moment, before gathering his courage, and standing tall. “I’m creating a potion to enhance my body. I want to look like Bane, and start putting some notches on my bedpost.” His tone of voice dared the other to challenge him.

 

“I want in.”

 

\---- SVH ----

 

Muttering to himself, Argus Filch wandered aimlessly through the halls. His feet had brought him to the bottom of the Astronomy Tower. In his state of auto-pilot and grief he climbed the stairs without thought. If he hadn’t been a squib, he might have noticed the effects of a compulsion charm.

 

Approaching the top landing, he caught sight of lamp-like eyes, and a fuzzy tail. His voice quavering in sadness. “Mrs. Norris…. Is that you? Oh! You’ve come back to me!” Filch’s steps accelerated, as he desperately chased what he thought to be his cat.

 

Reaching the open air section of the tower, he discovered the cat sitting elegantly upon the outer wall. “Mrs. Norris… come down from there. It’s dangerous!” He rushed forward and continued beckoning the cat towards himself, only for his arms to swipe through empty air when he attempted to scoop her up.

 

“What? What is this?!” Filch’s voice was desperate and angry. “Who’s done this! How dare you! I’ll kill ya!” He was now screaming hysterically.

 

When there was no reply, he turned back and looked out into the forest. “My kitty… i miss you-” His muttering was interrupted as he was grabbed by an invisible force and flung over the side.

 

Near the doorway, Harry stood under his invisibility cloak and contemplated his steady hands. Feeling stable once more, the sated 12 year old turned on his heel and walked away without a further thought to Filch’s death.


	13. Odd Statistics and Business Deals

November 1st, 1992

The teacher’s lounge was quite full that morning. Due to the events of last night, an emergency meeting had been called by Dumbledore. “ - and Poppy still hasn’t been able to identify the blood type on the walls.”

Filius looked a tad annoyed. “Blood _type_? What the devil does that have to do with this?”

“Well, you see, there are many types of blood… A, AB, B, O..” Albus began obliviously.

“ **I KNOW WHAT IT IS**!” Filius snapped. His voice belying his small stature. " _Who’s_ blood is it?”

Minerva jumped to the Headmaster’s defense like a loyal guard dog. “If you had let him finish, he would have told you, that Poppy can’t determine whose it is, because she cannot be sure if it’s even human blood at all!”

Grumbling, Filius leaned back and when Minerva looked away, he bared his teeth and made a strangling gesture with his hands. ‘Fuckin’ purebloods… should just take my cousins advice, and turn them all into jerky.’

Albus merely pretended he didn’t hear any of this, and finally decided to continue on to the next subject. “It has also come to my attention that Argus Filch took his own life early this morning.”

*gasp*

Sprout clutched her robes over her heart. “WHAT?”

“Hagrid discovered his body at the base of the Astronomy Tower. It appears that he just couldn’t handle the loss of his pussy.” Albus carefully schooled his features to appear “sad” and nodded with practiced precision. “Argus’ remains have already been shipped to his last remaining family in Ireland.” And by shipped, Albus internally meant he sent Argus in a magically expanded box by owl with // _Return to Sender_ // written upon the old squib’s forehead and charmed to dump the body onto the lap of the next person who opened it. A shadow of a vindictive smirk crossed Albus’ face for a split second at this.

Slughorn asserted himself into this obvious opening. “I have something to bring up that greatly concerns me!”

The headmaster turned to his Potions Master. “Go on…?”

“I have noticed an alarming number of detentions being assigned to members of my quidditch team.” Slughorn began. Turning an accusing glare towards the foppish blonde across from him. “Specifically by _you_ , Gilderoy.”

The accused man merely scoffed genially, and made a negligent hand gesture.

“Horace, if you’re worried that your team won’t be a threat to my lions…” Minerva leered.

“NO! This is far beyond such petty things. I have cross referenced the Book of Punishments, and have noticed a very strange pattern…” Slughorn’s eyes never leaving Lockhart’s face. His glare practically gazed straight through into the other man’s very soul.

“A statistical anomaly, perhaps?” Lockhart’s expression was bubbly and vacant as usual. Of course, no one really believed that he understood what those words meant.

“Quite an _odd_ anomaly…” Slughorn was now smirking rather evilly. “An anomaly only targeting male members of _all 4 quidditch teams_ , in fact…”

Dumbledore had finally cottoned on to what Slughorn was driving at, and cut off any further remarks. “Alright! Well, if there are no other issues? - No, I’m sure Gilderoy is not doing anything nefarious, Horace. - I call this meeting to an - Really, Horace, is it truly necessary to pursue this any further?” 

The aging headmaster leapt from his seat and fled from the room without another word. ‘The last thing I need is another bloody scandal. Like i care if the quidditch players are engaged in extracurricular activities with Gilderoy? It’s none of my business! La-la-la-la! Ooooh! Lemon Drops! Om-Nom-Nom!’

\---- SVH ----

A pair redheaded 4th years trudged through the Forbidden Forest towards a secluded clearing. On their way, they had passed a relaxed looking Centaur that had winked at them. “That Blaise is quite talented with his hands…”

Fred and George glanced amusedly at each other, before sauntering the remaining 50 feet. Standing before them, was a rough built paddock, with tables, stools, 3 Slytherin students, and several cases of bottles. Some bottles were empty, and others were filled with white liquid. 

“BLAISE, YOU PLONKER!” A creamy looking Pansy shrieked at her dark skinned counterpart. “You got more Centaur milk on me than you did in the bloody bottle!”

Blaise looked properly abashed, and Theodore Nott was in stitches.

*ahem*

The Slytherins span around and looked wide-eyed at their audience.

“What do we have here, Fred?”

“It looks like an illicit operation to me, George.”

“Right you are, Fred.”

Blaise, who wasn’t silently fuming or laughing uncontrollably, decided to play Public Relations. “There is nothing against the rules, going on here, and it’s none of your business!” You’ll have to forgive him, he _is_ 12 after all.

The Demon Twins grinned like cheshire cats, and began their verbal tennis match.

“Are you -”

“- sure you should - “

“ - dismiss us so - “

“- quickly?”

The younger students looked nervous. They knew nothing good happened when the Weasley’s smiled like _that_.

“It’s funny that you - “

“ - mention _business_ \- “

“ - since we have a business - “

“ - proposition for - “

“ - _you_.”

Blaise being the consummate Slytherin decided to see where the rabbit hole went. “Where are you going with this?”

“George, old boy…”

“Yes, Fred?”

“Should we show them the spell?”

“Ooooh! But what do _we_ get out of it?”

Fred’s face became serious at this. “If we help you run your operation more efficiently, and increase sales of your… _milk_. We get guaranteed stock in your company and a reasonable cut in profits when you go public.”

“A partnership?” The black boy was intrigued. He was rather surprised by how reasonable the Gryffindors were being.

“Yes.”

“BUT THEY’RE GRYFFINDORS!” Pansy shrieked.

Theo cast a silencing charm on the pug, and decided to finally enter the discussion. “I like where this is going. How can you help us? What is this spell you mentioned?”

The Twins looked at each other and turned back towards the others. “It’s the called the Hoover Charm.”

“Hoo-ver?” Theo repeated.

“Of course! - “

“ - because nothing - “

“ - sucks like - “

“- a Hoover!”

Still looking incredibly baffled, Theo pressed further. “How does it work?”

“You charm each of your bottles… and present one to a Centaur’s… _ya know_ … and it does all the work for you!” George leered. “We found the charm written down in the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

“It’s every teenage boy’s best friend!” Fred added.

\---- SVH ----

December 1st, 1992

Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Erica the Random Hufflepuff tip-toed down the hall towards the Hospital Wing.

“What are we doing? Why did you drag me out here so late?!” Erica griped. She really had no idea why she even complied with the Second Year’s demands.

“SSSSHHHHH! We heard about another attack!” Susan replied. “Come on, the coast is clear!”

The 3 girls slipped through the doors, and rushed towards a bed occupied by the stiff form of Colin Creevey.

“ _Him_?” Hannah sneered. “He’s kind of…. Uhhh….”

“Creepy?” Erica finished for her.

“You see! The threat is rising! We _must_ do something!” Susan insisted.

“Ok.. but he’s still a creep.” Erica allowed.

Susan turned towards the other girls. “This is our first real mission! The school needs us!”

The redhead’s fervor seemed to be contagious, as the other girls nodded emphatically.

Hannah piped up with an eager grin. “I’ll make our costumes!”

“I’ll make the potions!” Erica chimed.

“And I’ll… be our leader!” Susan declared. “Together… we are…”

In a bellowing chorus that could wake the dead, the girls finished together…

_** “THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!” ** _


	14. Gallons of Salamander Blood

December 5th, 1992

Ginny Weasley was sitting at a table in the library with a dictionary and a thesaurus. Upon a piece of parchment, scribbled in her childish scrawl, were several bits of notes and what looked like a pyramid of names.

At the top of the parchment was an acronym that she had slowly pieced together using the aforementioned books sitting next to her.

// _ **C** aptivated **R** egistrants **A** uditing **Z** estful **Y** earnings_//

Below that was her own name at the top of the pyramid. Branching off from here, were Padma Patil, and Romilda Vane. Branching to a third level were Lavender Brown, Kevin Entwistle, Terry Boot, and Marcus Flint. She thought the people involved to be a bit off, even obsessed in a disturbing way. But who was she to judge?

// _Ginny Weasley, the entrancing red headed girl shall direct the proper admiration and auditing of Harry Potter. Every move, every breath..._ //  

The notes continued with rules and duties for each member. Some additional notes on the bottom stated that Ginny was worried that Marcus may try to depose her and gain control of C.R.A.Z.Y. later on. ‘He is much too interested in Harry for my tastes!’ She thought.

Pushing her work aside, she flipped open her Diary to speak with her best friend.

// _Oh Tom!_

__

_I’m almost ready to hold the first meeting, and I still haven’t convinced Harry to be my one and only! I was absolutely sure that the toad stuffed with flowers would impress him… I just don’t understand why he didn’t realize that it was from me._ // Ginny hoped that Neville wouldn’t notice the absence of Trevor the Toad.

A cacophony of curses and insulting thoughts cascaded through Tom’s mind at this. ‘Come on, sanity. Don’t fail me now! Just a little longer…’

// _Dear Ginny,_

__

_Perhaps a new tactic is in order? The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Does he have a favorite dessert? You could prepare some and give it to him during dinner. Male’s tend to really appreciate such gestures._ //

Ginny gasped at Tom’s innovative thinking.

// _Thank you, Tom!_

__

_I already know that his favorite is Treacle Tart! And mum taught me how to mix amortentia into his favorite variety this summer! My mum is so smart!_ //

‘By Morgana, it’s genetic!’ Tom thoughts. ‘Then again… it does explain how Molly Pruitt managed to trick that Weasley into looking at her without becoming violently ill, let alone _mate with her_.’ 

*mental dry-heaving*

\---- SVH ----

It was mid-day, and the Hufflepuff Common Room was currently empty. This was due to all students attending a mandatory snowball fight. This may seem weird to anyone who wasn’t a Hufflepuff, but they had been indoctrinated - * _ahem_ * - convinced of the friendship building aspects of group activities soon after joining.

Every Hufflepuff student was currently embroiled in their passionate battle outdoors, except for the 3 girls sitting at the largest table.

Susan stood before the table with her hands clasped behind her back as if she were a military commander. “Hannah, report!”

Hannah looked up from her careful folding of various pieces of colored cloth on the table. “I have narrowed down the color schemes and material types for our costumes, and am now designing the outfits themselves.”

Susan leaned forward and inspected the material. “Excellent choice… Erica?”

The dark haired 7th year stepped forward. “The potions project is proceeding faster than expected. However, I still haven’t found a way to give us unaided flight.”

“Explain?”

“I know a way to make it _look_ unaided but i doubt you would want to shove a broomstick up your - “

“I GOT IT!” Hannah interrupted. “We can weave runes into the costumes for flight!”

Susan and Erica grinned. “Brilliant!”

Turning back to Erica, Susan raised an eyebrow. “BTW, How in Merlin’s name did you get your hands on 5 gallons of Salamander Blood? And for that matter, why do you need that much?”

Erica shrugged, “I helped Longbottom with a potion, and in exchange he told me that Slughorn has been supplying professional Quidditch players with illegal potions to up their game.”

Hannah gasped. “You blackmailed a Professor?!”

Erica blushed and made a negligent gesture, clearly taking this as a compliment.

“Good work, Erica!” Susan then pushed further. “But why so much?”

At this, Erica sighed. “Unless we want to start looking like Troll Half-Breeds, I had to go with a temporary version of the potion that only lasts for a couple of hours.” She then blushed again. “Granted... on a boy it would look rather nice, but we’re girls soooo…”

The other girls gained a dreamy look on their faces.

\---- SVH ----

December 16th, 1992

The Great Hall had been transformed completely. Down the center, was a raised platform with odd symbols painted over the surface. Strutting up and down the length was Professor Lockhart wearing a ridiculous caped uniform and doing what he does best.

Verbally Masturbate.

An impatient Flitwick stood at the end of the platform, tapping his shoe waiting for the ponce to get on with it. “Perhaps we should move things along Professor Lockhart?” The diminutive Wizard prompted with a not so subtle hint of sarcasm.

“Right you are!” Lockhart spun and pointed. “So! A demonstration!”

A bare moment later, Flitwick twirled and flicked his wand causing it to release a ghostly wave of energy towards his unprepared opponent. Upon reaching Lockhart, the spell yanked him upwards by his cape and dangled him above the crowd.

While the foppish blonde made odd choking sounds, Flitwick sauntered forward and addressed the student. “Lesson 1: Use your opponent’s most obvious weakness against them!”

Susan leaned towards Hannah and whispered. “ _No Capes!_ ”

“Agreed.”

Releasing the “Defense” professor from the spell, and ignoring the sound that was made when said individual dropped to the platform, Flitwick continued. He also pretended that he didn’t hear the students laughing at Lockhart’s misfortune. “Lesson 2:” His wand snapped out again, flinging Lockhart to the other side of the platform. “Reflexes will always beat Big Magic, every time.” At the word big magic, he had used air quotes. “What I mean by that, is that unless you can cast a big flashy spell faster than your opponent can flick their wand and cast a blasting curse… **_don’t do it_**.”

Lockhart dazedly stood up and staggered a step or 2 before gaining his feet. Discovering that no one was looking at him, and wanting to correct that, he jumped in. “Right! It’s time to pair up and practice!” Surging forward drunkenly, he grabbed Harry with one hand and Draco with the other. “You first!”

The peacock proceeded to push the 2 boys towards the platform, but tripped and fell backwards with a crash when he tried to follow them.

*more laughter*

The half goblin professor face-palmed and grumbled about making a batch of ‘Moron Jerky’.

15 minutes later…

Harry Potter followed his friends out through the door. Mentally he added Justin Finch-Fletchley to his Shit List, and contemplated reinstating Draco. Then again… that serpensortia spell might come in useful some day. ‘I really should have let the Cobra have a go at that Puff… oh, well. He’ll be _dealt with_.’

“Harry! Why didn’t you tell us that you’re a parselmouth?!” Hermione whirled on the boy and griped.

“A what?” Harry honestly had never heard the term before. “What are you talking about?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You spoke to the snake!”

“O-kaaay?”

Ron decided to butt in. “We heard you hissing at the snake and it responded. Only Parselmouths are able to do that.”

“I wasn’t hissing.” Blink.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then simultaneously responded. “Yes, you were.”

Harry gave them both a queer look. “I was speaking english, the whole time.”

Hermione’s expression turned concerned and hesitant. “Harry… have you ever spoken to snakes before today?”

“Of course. I’m sure loads of Wizards can do it.” Harry shrugged.

“No… we can’t. It’s really rare.” Ron answered. “In fact the last Wizard known was V-v-v- _You-Know-Who_.”

“Huh… It does explain why I heard voices in my garden talking about the flavor of Mrs. Figg’s cats...” Harry looked sheepish for a moment. “I honestly thought i was going barmy.” What he didn’t say, was that he also sent those same snakes after his cousin. The bites were indeed venomous and resulted in a long stay in the local hospital. ‘Good times...’

The conversation was unable to continue any further due to a commotion ahead of them. Lockhart had managed to corner Bane and was now making a valiant effort in verbally masturbating them both. Bane seemed vaguely flattered, yet increasingly annoyed.

Harry was now mixed into the crowd to observe. His 2 friends had or some reason went there own way. He fleetingly recalled some excuse about homework and food. *shrug*

“I remember you…” Bane sneered. “Yes… you were quite verbal about how unkempt and dirty we are. Centaurs were so _below_ you.”

Lockhart grinned nervously. “Pish-Posh! That was then, this is now… And my, my, my have you _ever_ changed.” Biting his lip, the foppish man reached up and pawed at the robust Centaur with a glazed expression.

Bane glared downward at the hand that was caressing his impressive chest as if someone had splattered manure across its expanse. ‘I’m going to have to scrub myself raw after this…’ *shudder*

Unfortunately, shuddering was exactly the wrong thing to do. For Lockhart took this as encouragement and made to wrap his arms around the Centaur’s torso. “Shall we retire to my quarters?” Lockhart leered.

“Remove yourself from my person, or your head shall find it’s way into your own arse.” Bane’s voice was harsh and commanding. “Mars is **_very_** bright right now.”

“Playing hard to get… I like that!” The peacock made a strategic retreat. But would not be denied.

During this exchange, Draco had approached Harry and began a rapid negotiation.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

“Truce?”

*eyebrow raise*

“You’re a parselmouth, and I have a lot of resources.”

Harry contemplated this. ‘Talking to snakes must be a weird Slytherin thing… I suppose I could use him, instead of returning to plotting his death…’

“Truce.”

“That Peacock is trying to steal what is mine.”

“I can see that...” Harry watched as Lockhart pawed at the Centaur’s obscene chest.

“Can you help me get rid of him?”

“I could…” Harry hedged.

“I’ll do you a favor in return.”

“I’ll get back to you on that favor.” Harry nodded.

“So…?”

“Consider it a deal.” Harry promptly shook the other boy’s hand. And with that, Bane pushed Lockhart away by his face in a negligent manner and made his way towards Draco and Harry.

“Greetings.” Bane smiled gently when he reached the boys. “Enjoying your evening?”

Draco looked up adoringly at the hulking Centaur’s face. “I am now…” Suddenly remembering his manners, he gestured to Harry. “Bane, this is Harry Potter. I have made a truce with him, that I hope to cultivate into something more friendly.”

“Hullo.” Harry waved feeling a bit intimidated.

“Hello, Harry Potter.” The centaur replied. “I have heard… _things_ about you from others.”

“ _Things?_ ”

 

“Indeed.” Clearly not interested in elaborating, Bane placed his hand on Draco’s back and lead the boy away.


	15. Scarfus Interruptus

December 16th, 1992

Mandy Brocklehurst was searching the castle from top to bottom. Why? Because Terry Bloody Boot had hidden her bookbag in revenge. Nevermind that she probably deserved it. She did, after all replace all of the text on his transfiguration essay with the word _Bork_ , moments before class began. ‘Bloody hell! It was a _week_ ago!’

Upon opening broom closet #465 with a tired huff, she was presented with the weirdest sight of her short life.

Justin Finch-Fletchley’s petrified and very naked body was hanging by a scarf, with his hand wrapped firmly around his willy. The massive mirror leaning against the back wall provided her with maximum, if unwanted, detail with a single glance.

The first thing that crossed her mind was the phrase: ‘ _Scarfus Interruptus_ ’.

The second thought being that he had a rather tiny willy.

And then she screamed.

\---- SVH ----

// _Tom?_

__

_What does “scarfing” mean?_ //

// _I’ll tell you when you’re older_.//

\---- SVH ----

December 25th, 1992

The few students that had remained in the castle were merrily chattering and eating various sweets. At a secluded section of the Gryffindor table Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discussing their own suspicions regarding the attacks on muggle-borns.

Hermione finished chewing her bite, and locked eyes with Harry. “I wish we could have brewed that potion.” The bushy haired girl huffed in disappointment.

“It’s not your fault, Slughorn’s security is pretty strict.” Harry reassured. “And besides, I seriously doubt that Malfoy is the Heir anyway.”

“Whuff-ooo-meemm?” Ron mumbled. Crumbs and half-chewed jam oozed out of his mouth, causing Hermione to retch delicately.

“He pulled me aside after the Dueling club meet, and pretty much implied that he thought I was the Heir.” Harry admitted. “He made some speech about my parselmouth abilities, and asked for a truce.”

“Harry, a truce... this could be a good thing!” Hermione looked intrigued.

Ron gawked in disgust, causing several cookies spill out of his maw. “B-bu-bu-but he’s _MALFOY_!”

“RONALD, FOR THE LOVE OF-”

“Ron it’s ok. He seems like he’s mellowing out, honestly.” Harry quickly cut off Hermione before she gained anyone’s attention.

Further up the table, Ginny Weasley was avidly watching while eyeing a tray of Treacle Tart sitting in front of Harry. ‘Come on… come on… MMMM! Don’t those tarts look enticing? Yes! Yum-yum! Eat up! - Wait… NO! _Nonononono_! - DAMN IT RON!’ Ginny’s face turned an unhealthy shade of grey, as Ron had begun to shovel the entire contents of the tray of tarts into his mouth without chewing.

Ron’s face suddenly melted into a dreamy state. “Hey, Harry…?” His voice seemed weird.

Both Harry and Hermione suddenly stopped talking and turned their heads to stare at Ron.

“Yes, Ron…?” Harry hesitantly responded.

“I think i’m in _love_ …”

Down the table, A wide-eyed Ginny was cringing in horror. ‘Oh Merlin… _Nooooo_ ….’

Hermione looked concerned, and thrown off by his random change in behavior. “In love with who?”

“Tippy… she’s so beautiful…” Ron’s eyes were glassy and far away.

Ginny’s eyebrows drew together. ‘ _Tippy_ … what the hell?’

“Tippy?” Harry and Hermione echoed.

“Her baseball shaped eyes… cute floppy ears….”

Ginny dashed from the Great Hall holding her hand over her mouth.

“What’s up with her?” Harry muttered.

“Something she ate?” Hermione offered.

“I think it’s something _Ron_ ate.”

Hermione leaned over the table and sniffed the decimated remains of the treacle tart. “This smells like…”

“TIPPY MY LOVE! I NEED YOU!” The redhead was now moaning obnoxiously.

*SLAP!*

An enraged Angelina was standing over Ron’s prone form on the floor. The sheer force of the slap had thrown the boy off the bench.

This had served to temporarily snap Ron out of his stupor. Standing up, he rubbed his face in pain. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

Angelina was now swinging her rather manly hands at the boy before her. “ _WHO_ ” *SMACK* “ _THE_ ” *SMACK* “ _HELL_ ” *SMACK* “ _IS_ ” *SMACK* “ _TIPPY?!_ ” *SMACK*

“ ** _OW_**! Stop hitting me!” Ron whined. “You’re hands are like beater bats!”

“ARRRGGGHHH!” The dark skinned girl growled. “I’ll show you **_beater bats_** , you cheating little - “

“Harry!” Hermione pulled her friend’s attention back to herself. “This tart was laced with a love potion!”

“Really?”

“Yes! And I think it was meant for, _you_!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is that so?” He watched as Ron sprinted out of the Great Hall to escape his angry soon-to-be-ex-grilfriend.

\---- SVH ----

Pacing back and forth in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Harry was contemplating his little Lockhart problem. Draco was bound to get impatient eventually, so he needed to at least get the ball rolling.

A rumor had been making the rounds, courtesy of Parvati and Lavender, that Lockhart had an unhealthy infatuation with the male Quidditch players of Hogwarts. There was no proof of anything inappropriate happening, but such rumors tended to get the most attention.

As he was about to turn on his heel and pace back towards his bed, he noticed a magazine on Dean’s desk. Harry reached over and turned it around. On the cover was a photo of a muggle Rugby team posing at a mountain spa resort.

Each player was well built, and quite aggressive looking. Cocking his head to one side, Harry hummed.

‘I wonder…’

\---- SVH ----

“LOADS OF LOVE!”

The Weasley twins were walking along the halls of Hogwarts, with trays of bottles strapped to their bodies. Each bottle was labeled as “Loads of Love” in an assortment of colors.

“Get your Load of Love, here!” Fred shouted over the crowd of students.

Next to Fred his brother piped up next. “Cherry Flavor!”

“Vanilla!”

“Original!”

“9 Sickles a bottle!”

“50 percent off today only!”

The weasley’s bottled drinks rapidly vanished, and their money pouches filled even faster. A little ways off, Draco and Blaise observed appraisingly.

Blaise leaned towards Draco. “I told you, it was a good idea.”

“Alright Zabini, no need to rub it in.” Draco huffed. “How much are they skimming off the top?”

“Nothing!” Blaise grinned.

“You’re joking!”

“Not at all! They weren’t kidding when they said to wait until we go public.”

 

Draco merely blinked in astonishment.


End file.
